The Carnival

imageAs I sit here watching a village cricket game I wonder about the image overload that I experienced yesterday.

First of all I needed something and decided to have my car washed by one of those valet services in the car park. Needless to say that as a farming vehicle, my car is hidden under a solid layer of dust. Inside and out. I asked my brother how much did he think I would be paying? He thought for a bit.

‘In your case you should tell them to do the whole thing, throw your key at him and run. Then he can’t haggle.’

So I braved it. ‘Can you do it in an hour?’ A frown (him). ‘No, I need more time.’ Blush (me). ‘Two hours?’ Pleading smile (me). ‘Hmm, OK.’ Resignation (him). Then I ran.image.jpeg

Spending two hours in the town when you are only buying a pair of meat scissors is quite a challenge! You end up getting two pairs of trousers, a couple of tops and even a pair of trainers. And coffe that you drink for thirty five minutes.

People watching is an option and it’s highly recommended. We are indeed a colourful and vibrant lot. Blue hair, green hair, bright pink hair with matching handbag and shoes, tattoos, pearcings, goth clothes, bright red glasses, bare feet, singing folk songs with a cd backing track, busking with a guitar – it was like enjoying a private carnival parade.

I hesitantly returned to my car just to find it still camouflaged as a mountain of dust. The man in charge looked at me and said something about a customer who needed a quick job on her Audi and that they would be starting on mine soon. I laughed it off and fled back to the countryside. I knew the truth – he was afraid of a challenge.

Evening came swiftly and with it 80 hungry people who expected me to cook chickens for them (no, not my peep of chickens!) A friend’s son’s 21st birthday, which always means a lot of young men who eat a lot. However the catering was not the main thing keeping me occupied. What I wasn’t told was the theme of the party – Brazilian (that’s clothing and colours of Brazil rather than whatever your dirty mind brings up).

My day of people watching conditioned me for this. I feasted my eyes on hats made of fruit, feathers, sparkly headdresses, bright nylon suits (not allowed around my roasting machines due to severe fire risk), big eyelashes, high heels and generally madness in the form of men dressed as melon ladies and women sporting national football team’s colours.

Coming to collect the plates etc this morning I found a pile of debris where the beautiful people danced last night. Remains of feathers and costumes were strewn over the whole field.

It was obvious that the carnival went well.

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