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Jun. 25th, 2006 10:31 pmMy mother and I were guests of honour at the Sultan Show today. We arrived at 12.15 pm for tea/coffee and biscuits with the Commodore, who then took us through to the VIP marquee for a buffet lunch.
During the week we'd been told that we were wanted until 4 pm, when we'd be needed to see the Commodore take the salute, then we'd be free to go. So I'd suggested we watch the first half of England v Ecuador on the big screen, then John would drive us home during the half-time break. John had enthusiastically agreed to this, my mother reluctantly so.
The plan was scuppered during the buffet lunch. Over tea, the Commodore had asked my mother to present the prizes for the cadet field gun crew tournament. Now, in the marquee, the naval officer in charge of the prizes said the presentation would be from 4.45 to 5.05. At least that was mostly during half-time, but it would mean being driven home during the first quarter-hour of the second half. More to the point was that we needed to let John know the revised time for his picking us up. I slipped out of the marquee (still holding my half-full glass of Bucks Fizz) and tried to phone him. TWELVE times my phone just switched itself off, for no reason whatsoever. On two of those occasions I'd actually got through to John and started to talk to him but the phone had cut out before I'd got to telling him the time. A couple of other times the phone just abruptly switched off the moment I pressed the Call button. By the eighth or ninth time, it was taking all my self-restraint not to smash the phone against a brick wall. Finally - 13th time lucky - I got through, the phone stayed on long enough for me to tell John he'd now be picking us up at 5.10 and I returned to join my mother in our ringside seats to watch the rest of the Flying Gunners' motorbike jump display.
We were assigned a young female cadet named Lindsay, who came from South Wales, as our escort for the day. She seemed a nice enough lass, though quite shy and quiet. After the Flying Gunners, she led us for a walk round the show. We saw some Navy helicopters and plenty of funfair attractions and Village Fete-type stalls. There was someone doing a 'Deal Or No Deal' game, with prizes ranging from a brussels sprout through to the top prize of £5. We queued up to play, but the queue was slow moving and before we got to have a go it was time for the medieval jousting, which me ma really wanted to see, so we headed back to the arena.
The jousting was very well performed and lots of fun, complete with Sir Harry Hotspur, Sir Bedivere, the Green Knight and, of course, the evil Black Knight. When the knights rode round asking women in the crowd for 'favours' to hang on their lances, the Green Knight got handed a bra. At the end the PA announcer said the guy who played the Black Knight was the co-ordinator of the troupe and was in the film Troy, and that the company were the UK's leading supplier of horses to the film industry.
From there we went for another quick walkabout. We played the RNLI's 'draw a straw' game - we staked 20p each, me ma and Lindsay didn't win anything but I won 15p, much to the stallholder's pretend annoyance. One of the fete raffle stalls was manned by a husband and wife both wearing 'Fan of Holland' T-shirts! I put out my hand for the wife to shake and said 'Hup Holland Hup'; she was a bit unsure of me at first, but when I told her I was a Holland supporter they were both very friendly. Me ma and I both bought three tickets, but didn't win. Said goodbye to the stallholders punching the air and saying "Oranje!", earning me big smiles from them both. A young sailor asked if I'd care to 'soak a pirate' for a pound. I replied "Certainly," but his face fell and he said "Oh, go on! It's good fun." Somehow, on the way from my mouth to his brain the word 'Certainly' had transformed itself into 'Sod off'. I explained that I'd said yes, so parted with a pound for the privilege of chucking five wet sponges at a sailor in pirate costume in a set of stocks. I got two of them on target.
We happened to be passing the marquee just as the dog-handlers' display was starting, so my mother and Lindsay stayed to watch that while I walked over to the Soak a Sailor booth, as it was nearly 3 pm, when the Commodore had told us he'd be taking his turn. As the Commodore stepped into the booth, he was delighted to see me there but asked "Where's the Mayor?" Lots of kids stepped up to take their turn at throwing wet sponges trying to hit the target and so tip the bucket of water over the Commodore; during the five minutes I watched, four kids succeeded, while a couple more settled for just whanging the sponges at the Commodore's face.
Meanwhile, a sailor approached me and asked me to buy a Beanie Baby raffle ticket for £1. "It is for charity," he implored, so I obliged. When I opened my ticket, the sailor said "It's a winner! Make sure you come and collect your Beanie Baby, when we get rid of them all I can go home." Having no use for a Beanie Baby, I never did collect it. I hope the sailor wasn't too late getting rid of them. Also while I was there, an organiser told me that my mother would be asked to do the raffle draw at 4.30. Hadn't wanted to see much of the football anyway...
Walking round, a lady from the St Dunstan's stall gave me a leaflet about her charity and asked whether I'd like a metal badge. Just like that. I gratefully accepted, and put a pound in the collecting tin on the stall despite her insisting there was really no need. There's the power of having a civic badge round my neck.
I rejoined my mother and Lindsay back at the arena for another display by the Flying Gunners, followed by cakes in the marquee. 4 pm came and went without anything happening, so I moseyed over to the beer tent, bought a pint of Badger's Fursty Ferret, got a chicken and salad pitta bread from one of the food stalls and stood watching the football till 4.25.
I walked back to the arena expecting the raffle draw; my mother told me she'd just done it. They'd asked her to do it early as there was nothing happening in the arena and it had all gone quiet there (what did they expect with the game on?) Me ma asked me to escort her to the Portaloos, as she can't go anywhere on her own while wearing the Mayoral chain (it's solid gold and 84 years old). So I accompanied her to the queue by the loos, which were fortunately within earshot of the TV commentary, and stood guard outside the Portaloo while she went (drawing a couple of funny looks).
Then we went back over to the arena and saw the last race of the cadet gun crew contest. Much to the delight of the officers with us, Sultan's own team won. The organising officer made a quick speech, my mother presented the awards to all the cadets on the first- and second-placed teams and the cup for the fastest single team run, and then we sat down. It was 5.05 now, but the Commodore asked us if we'd stay to see the Royal Marines Band play their farewell tunes and beat the Retreat, so we did.
As the Commodore escorted us back to the car park, we saw half the Royal Marines Band stampeding towards the main building. My mother wondered why, until I pointed out that they were probably in a hurry to see the rest of the England match having missed an hour of it already.
John had the car radio tuned to 5 Live. He told us England were 1-0 up, that Beckham had scored the goal and that that was the only good thing he'd done all game. Back home to see the closing minutes and have a cooked meal.
Netherlands v Portugal was an awful game, the referee completely lost the plot, and the Dutch deservedly lost 1-0.
Goodbye, my Lisa; goodbye, my Oranje. ;(
During the week we'd been told that we were wanted until 4 pm, when we'd be needed to see the Commodore take the salute, then we'd be free to go. So I'd suggested we watch the first half of England v Ecuador on the big screen, then John would drive us home during the half-time break. John had enthusiastically agreed to this, my mother reluctantly so.
The plan was scuppered during the buffet lunch. Over tea, the Commodore had asked my mother to present the prizes for the cadet field gun crew tournament. Now, in the marquee, the naval officer in charge of the prizes said the presentation would be from 4.45 to 5.05. At least that was mostly during half-time, but it would mean being driven home during the first quarter-hour of the second half. More to the point was that we needed to let John know the revised time for his picking us up. I slipped out of the marquee (still holding my half-full glass of Bucks Fizz) and tried to phone him. TWELVE times my phone just switched itself off, for no reason whatsoever. On two of those occasions I'd actually got through to John and started to talk to him but the phone had cut out before I'd got to telling him the time. A couple of other times the phone just abruptly switched off the moment I pressed the Call button. By the eighth or ninth time, it was taking all my self-restraint not to smash the phone against a brick wall. Finally - 13th time lucky - I got through, the phone stayed on long enough for me to tell John he'd now be picking us up at 5.10 and I returned to join my mother in our ringside seats to watch the rest of the Flying Gunners' motorbike jump display.
We were assigned a young female cadet named Lindsay, who came from South Wales, as our escort for the day. She seemed a nice enough lass, though quite shy and quiet. After the Flying Gunners, she led us for a walk round the show. We saw some Navy helicopters and plenty of funfair attractions and Village Fete-type stalls. There was someone doing a 'Deal Or No Deal' game, with prizes ranging from a brussels sprout through to the top prize of £5. We queued up to play, but the queue was slow moving and before we got to have a go it was time for the medieval jousting, which me ma really wanted to see, so we headed back to the arena.
The jousting was very well performed and lots of fun, complete with Sir Harry Hotspur, Sir Bedivere, the Green Knight and, of course, the evil Black Knight. When the knights rode round asking women in the crowd for 'favours' to hang on their lances, the Green Knight got handed a bra. At the end the PA announcer said the guy who played the Black Knight was the co-ordinator of the troupe and was in the film Troy, and that the company were the UK's leading supplier of horses to the film industry.
From there we went for another quick walkabout. We played the RNLI's 'draw a straw' game - we staked 20p each, me ma and Lindsay didn't win anything but I won 15p, much to the stallholder's pretend annoyance. One of the fete raffle stalls was manned by a husband and wife both wearing 'Fan of Holland' T-shirts! I put out my hand for the wife to shake and said 'Hup Holland Hup'; she was a bit unsure of me at first, but when I told her I was a Holland supporter they were both very friendly. Me ma and I both bought three tickets, but didn't win. Said goodbye to the stallholders punching the air and saying "Oranje!", earning me big smiles from them both. A young sailor asked if I'd care to 'soak a pirate' for a pound. I replied "Certainly," but his face fell and he said "Oh, go on! It's good fun." Somehow, on the way from my mouth to his brain the word 'Certainly' had transformed itself into 'Sod off'. I explained that I'd said yes, so parted with a pound for the privilege of chucking five wet sponges at a sailor in pirate costume in a set of stocks. I got two of them on target.
We happened to be passing the marquee just as the dog-handlers' display was starting, so my mother and Lindsay stayed to watch that while I walked over to the Soak a Sailor booth, as it was nearly 3 pm, when the Commodore had told us he'd be taking his turn. As the Commodore stepped into the booth, he was delighted to see me there but asked "Where's the Mayor?" Lots of kids stepped up to take their turn at throwing wet sponges trying to hit the target and so tip the bucket of water over the Commodore; during the five minutes I watched, four kids succeeded, while a couple more settled for just whanging the sponges at the Commodore's face.
Meanwhile, a sailor approached me and asked me to buy a Beanie Baby raffle ticket for £1. "It is for charity," he implored, so I obliged. When I opened my ticket, the sailor said "It's a winner! Make sure you come and collect your Beanie Baby, when we get rid of them all I can go home." Having no use for a Beanie Baby, I never did collect it. I hope the sailor wasn't too late getting rid of them. Also while I was there, an organiser told me that my mother would be asked to do the raffle draw at 4.30. Hadn't wanted to see much of the football anyway...
Walking round, a lady from the St Dunstan's stall gave me a leaflet about her charity and asked whether I'd like a metal badge. Just like that. I gratefully accepted, and put a pound in the collecting tin on the stall despite her insisting there was really no need. There's the power of having a civic badge round my neck.
I rejoined my mother and Lindsay back at the arena for another display by the Flying Gunners, followed by cakes in the marquee. 4 pm came and went without anything happening, so I moseyed over to the beer tent, bought a pint of Badger's Fursty Ferret, got a chicken and salad pitta bread from one of the food stalls and stood watching the football till 4.25.
I walked back to the arena expecting the raffle draw; my mother told me she'd just done it. They'd asked her to do it early as there was nothing happening in the arena and it had all gone quiet there (what did they expect with the game on?) Me ma asked me to escort her to the Portaloos, as she can't go anywhere on her own while wearing the Mayoral chain (it's solid gold and 84 years old). So I accompanied her to the queue by the loos, which were fortunately within earshot of the TV commentary, and stood guard outside the Portaloo while she went (drawing a couple of funny looks).
Then we went back over to the arena and saw the last race of the cadet gun crew contest. Much to the delight of the officers with us, Sultan's own team won. The organising officer made a quick speech, my mother presented the awards to all the cadets on the first- and second-placed teams and the cup for the fastest single team run, and then we sat down. It was 5.05 now, but the Commodore asked us if we'd stay to see the Royal Marines Band play their farewell tunes and beat the Retreat, so we did.
As the Commodore escorted us back to the car park, we saw half the Royal Marines Band stampeding towards the main building. My mother wondered why, until I pointed out that they were probably in a hurry to see the rest of the England match having missed an hour of it already.
John had the car radio tuned to 5 Live. He told us England were 1-0 up, that Beckham had scored the goal and that that was the only good thing he'd done all game. Back home to see the closing minutes and have a cooked meal.
Netherlands v Portugal was an awful game, the referee completely lost the plot, and the Dutch deservedly lost 1-0.
Goodbye, my Lisa; goodbye, my Oranje. ;(
