Well, the birds are throwing themselves out of their nests again, which can only mean one thing here in Stepford-on-Haggis.... Yes folks, it's time for the village school Autumn Fayre (with capital letters too!) - come one, come all, but bring your pocket money because there will be oodles of tempting products to tickle the tastebuds and... no, it's no good, I can't keep that up.
Once again I have been roped in to man the Homebaking Stall (more capitals). This is a hugely important role for me and I must report to the Obergruppenfuhrer (cakes) at 13.10 precisely ready for a 13.15 start. Golly. At least this year I won't be a trembling, whey-faced novice, and will be fully prepared for some of the trials in store. These are (in order of scariness):
1) Obergruppenfuhrer (cakes)
A gruff, stern colossus of a female with 24 children and at least 70 years' experience of freezing batches of chile con carne. With no time for humour, leg-shaving, sideburn-shaving or women who don't cook, she strides purposefully around the hall, barking orders in a manly baritone, and intimidating the headmaster.
2) Tablet frenzy
This came as a shock to me last year. Posted as I was at the far end of the trestle table, near the fire exit, I very soon became aware that I was in charge of the 'TABLET' side of operations. In front of me were an assortment of beige squares, wrapped in cling film, labelled 30 pence for a small and 50 pence for a large portion. This was the sum total of my product knowledge, and I confess to feeling a rising sense of panic as customers approached. Even more worryingly, they seemed to be approaching in steadily increasing numbers, and piling down to my end of the table aggressively, shouting things like: "is tha nae tablet?" and: "Mary! tablet's doon this end, quick woman, will ye nae use yorr crutches?" while elbowing children aside, surprisingly roughly.
3) Tablet
After the tumult had subsided and the ambulances had left the car park, I made a start on my important research into the cause of such an extraordinary outburst of emotion from my usually taciturn neighbours. Tablet, to the uninitiated, is a slab of beige confectionery which looks like Kendal mint cake with a cup of tea tipped over it. It is made, I believe, by blending sugar, condensed milk and something else. This delightful mixture, left to set, can then be cut into portions like fudge. At this stage, most people would scoop up the lot and chuck it in the bin, but as we have seen, our kilt-wearing brethren positively froth at the mouth at the thought of it.
Packed with vitamin C, it was a firm favourite of tudor monarch Elizabeth I who, unencumbered by teeth, was able to gorge herself daily and then collapse on a pile of silk cushions, twitching becomingly. Its Scots Gaelic name: "Tagh u Linh" roughly translates as "scourge of diabetics" but the first recorded mention of its medicinal properties came during the Battle of Culloden in 1746 when it was used to anaesthetise Bonny Prince Charlie's horse. The Jacobites lost the battle, but the horse lived for several hours afterwards.
4) The Headmaster's Speech
This softly spoken, dapper, elderly gentleman is the pride of the school. A solitary man with an impressive collection of vintage teapots, he potters around these hallowed halls exuding an air of eccentric authority and cigar smoke. Keen to see all sides of an argument, he only raises his voice in defence of the work of his favourite actress, Sue Pollard. Idolised by teachers and pupils alike, he is said to chair PTA meetings like a benevolent King Arthur at his round table of knights.... yes, well you get the idea anyway.
Yet come Autumn Fayre day and he's a changed man. Gone is the mild pacifist, replaced by a chest-beating orator who makes Alexander the Great look like a Kleeneze representative. He mounts the stage grimly and then berates us for our complacency in the light of such a successful Fayre. "We must nae rest on oor laurels, we must gather oor strength and fight the heathen where a'er we may find' im."
"Dinnae rest, till we root him oot - for there is nae place for heathen swine in Stepford-on-Haggis, be Christ!"
Most embarrassing, you'll agree. Eventually, after a final fist brandishing, he falls unconscious into the waiting arms of his deputy, and the room falls quiet, except for a polite cough from someone choking on a crumb of tablet.....
Well, that was last year, and frankly I can't wait for Saturday. Be sure to catch up with our latest adventures next time won't you?
Pip-pip!
What a load of old bollocks.
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2 comments:
.. it has taken me a full week to recover from this screamingly funny post. I have not yet plucked up the courage to show it to my extremely Scottish mother, but I suspect that this is a treat that will await her today, when she returns from a day's golfing in the pissing rain (well I told you she was Scottish, no fair-weather golfers from that part of this fair isle. No, she's not wearing a fairisle jumper either, thank God).
I fear that some well meaning arse from the Race Relations Board will shortly be knocking on your door, but remain confident that their accent will probably be so thick that you will be unable to comprehend their meaning and will simply slam the door in their faces.
[.. feel I should point out, however, that the stout female in charge of the cakes should really be described as the Obergruppenführerin, which is the female of the noun. However, perhaps your use of the term "manly baritone" would indicate that this grammatical error was, in fact, entirely intentional.]
I'm now going to return to my corner, and shall rock slowly from side to side. Chewing tablet. Humming "Donald, where's your troosers".
Greetings from the dark woods of Kentucky. Google Reader was loading very slowly, so I clicked on 'trends' and then on 'most obscure'. Up popped Gosh, really? That's funny, I thought, I have no memory of that blog. I clicked on it, and immediately thought, "Oh, right! I loved that post." But nothing new since last year. I hate to prod someone for not doing something I wouldn't do, and certainly wouldn't be able to do at your level writing, but, but... If you ever again have the time or inclination to set something down, you are still in my reader, and I would love to see it. Best wishes to you in any case, and thanks. rb
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