“Twactors!”
His eyes oggled.
“Diesel!”
A number of farm vehicles rumbled by with various unrestrained small children waving from the back. Flapping paper signs declared their allegiance to a particular nursery or primary school. Meanwhile brass bands bashed through the village high street with a clear lack of majorettes. This was The Wheeliebinfen Feast Parade.
The mandolin gig the day before was pretty much the opening act for the feast. Following on from that would be a hedonistic bevy of candy floss, fair ground rides and roasted hog.
We, though, were content to stand in the shaded eves of The Barley Mow watching the world pass by whilst Yoda licked his ice-cream and pointed at anything with wheels. He was overwhelmed. Too much information. A man in a gorilla suit. Our chum Chris played at the roadside in his African music band. They were good and the entire village seemed to stop to listen to them, hogging park benches in the searing heat. I caught some of the music and hubbub on my recorder in an attempt to start my career as an audio historian. They laugh not but they’ll thank me in the future.
We had great plans. Munching hog, helter skelter on the green, a “big adventure” for the little Jedi. But he was clearly too hot and too tired.
Once the last wobbly float past us, we headed home for cup of tea and a nap. Us on foot, Yoda on his wee yellow trike.
Rock n’ roll. Rock n’ roll.
It’s a long time since we have seen any pictures/video of him.
I’ll do my best to get some up this weekend. Though we’re very busy. Off to The Ely Folk Festival and I have a gig and visitors and Wheeliebinland World Music Day. But I will try.