Pain In The Arse Picnic In The Park
Sep. 15th, 2006 11:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eiffel_71Tonight we attended the town's 'Proms in the Park'. It was our mayoral duty to be there, but I found out just this morning that my mother had decided to invite Aunt Jean, Uncle Graham and Gran along and have a group picnic. So I (and the others) had to hump umpteen cooler bags and heavy duty carrier bags packed to the gunnels with assorted nibbles from our house to the official people-carrier, then, on arrival, from the car to a spot on the edge of the crowd about two-thirds back.
It wasn't my type of music, of course, but I have to say the Band of the Royal Marines, Dartmouth, gave a flawless performance. I was really in the mood to be alone; I thought solitude ought to be easy to achieve at an event like this where all you do is listen reverently, so positioned my chair a little forward of the others and facing the stage. It didn't work; I got tapped on the shoulder every 30 seconds to be offered some nibble or other. Whoever did the chicken legs ruined them by making them hot and spicy, but the sausages were all right. To my joy there was a tub of olives on the table, but some time after I'd taken two small handfuls in quickish succession (there were still plenty left) the olives disappeared :(
At the interval we did our mayor and consort bit, walking round the park, talking to some of the musicians and saying hello to some of the service people, then on our way back to our pitch my mother was stopped by a local churchwarden wanting to talk to her about his organ.
I looked around for Miss K2, but didn't see her.
Uncle Graham came up trumps at the start of the second half, producing Chunky Kit Kats and caramel wafers. My mother got her cheese out, including some Mull of Kintyre mature cheddar. Now you're talking! I carved myself a largish chunk but left plenty for the others, but they all preferred to stick to the Irish cheddar. Came the finale, Rule Britannia accompanied by spectacular fireworks; without thinking, I couldn't stop myself singing "Rule Britannia, marmalade and jam, 5 Chinese crackers..." etc. I don't think anyone noticed :) Then when everyone stood up for Land of Hope and Glory I suddenly felt my arm being linked. It was my mother weaving us all into a line to bob up and down; apparently they do that at the Last Night of the Proms. I hadn't known that; Aunt Jean expressed sniffy surprise that I'd never attended the Last Night in person during the 13 years I lived in London. Our attempts at co-ordinated bobbing up and down were shambolic, so we soon settled for swaying from side to side instead.
And that was it; time to hump all the bags back to the people-carrier again. When we got home, my mother went and gave the leftover Mull of Kintyre cheese to bloody John the driver. Feh.
It wasn't my type of music, of course, but I have to say the Band of the Royal Marines, Dartmouth, gave a flawless performance. I was really in the mood to be alone; I thought solitude ought to be easy to achieve at an event like this where all you do is listen reverently, so positioned my chair a little forward of the others and facing the stage. It didn't work; I got tapped on the shoulder every 30 seconds to be offered some nibble or other. Whoever did the chicken legs ruined them by making them hot and spicy, but the sausages were all right. To my joy there was a tub of olives on the table, but some time after I'd taken two small handfuls in quickish succession (there were still plenty left) the olives disappeared :(
At the interval we did our mayor and consort bit, walking round the park, talking to some of the musicians and saying hello to some of the service people, then on our way back to our pitch my mother was stopped by a local churchwarden wanting to talk to her about his organ.
I looked around for Miss K2, but didn't see her.
Uncle Graham came up trumps at the start of the second half, producing Chunky Kit Kats and caramel wafers. My mother got her cheese out, including some Mull of Kintyre mature cheddar. Now you're talking! I carved myself a largish chunk but left plenty for the others, but they all preferred to stick to the Irish cheddar. Came the finale, Rule Britannia accompanied by spectacular fireworks; without thinking, I couldn't stop myself singing "Rule Britannia, marmalade and jam, 5 Chinese crackers..." etc. I don't think anyone noticed :) Then when everyone stood up for Land of Hope and Glory I suddenly felt my arm being linked. It was my mother weaving us all into a line to bob up and down; apparently they do that at the Last Night of the Proms. I hadn't known that; Aunt Jean expressed sniffy surprise that I'd never attended the Last Night in person during the 13 years I lived in London. Our attempts at co-ordinated bobbing up and down were shambolic, so we soon settled for swaying from side to side instead.
And that was it; time to hump all the bags back to the people-carrier again. When we got home, my mother went and gave the leftover Mull of Kintyre cheese to bloody John the driver. Feh.
