Forget all my previous moaning about setting up the Carnival stalls. Disregard
anything I might have said about the long hard hours on the field and the all too
brief "tea breaks" in the pub. I even take back MOST of the personal abuse directed
at Captain Fun when at 1.30 on Sunday morning he is the only one on Meadowside with
a cordless screwdriver and he won't let the rest of us play. This year I am coming
to the Carnival for a good rest.
I have just moved house after 15 years in Yorkshire and I am physically and emotionally
drained. Having moved into my old place with just a fridge, a bed and a video
recorder, I was amazed to find how much furniture, clothing and clutter had simply
grown out of the walls. Luckily a friend had just bought a house and was not too
proud to accept my 2nd, 3rd and probably 15th hand furniture leaving just enough to
fit neatly into a hired transit van. For 48 glorious hours we joined the ranks of
White Van Man and threw caution to the wind, the Highway Code out of the window and
became the Thelma and Louise of the West Midlands.
This is in itself a problem I am no longer part of the Northern Branch of the
Carnival Committee, but not yet a southerner. On top of everything else I have a
geographical identity crisis.
A week earlier I had tackled the problem of moving three assorted cats and a large
black dog in a small black car. The main challenge was that even though I have a
cat box big enough for a small horse, cat A likes cat B but hates cat C, cat B likes
cat A and does not mind cat C and cat C does not mind either but prefers the dog.
Tempting fate I threw them all in together and got about 200 yards before all hell
broke loose and I had to blow £14 on a second cat box. They have all settled in
well and are now the best of friends as they gang up on the local wildlife.
So now here I am surrounded by boxes that have not yet learned to unpack themselves.
The new house is both small and open plan which does not sit well with my motto of
"a place for everything and everything all over the place". I am stressed out of
my wits and aching in places I did not know I had; compared to this, Carnival will
be an absolute doddle.
Thanks to all who helped with the move, particularly Captain Fun who rescued us when
the van humiliatingly ran out of fuel 2 miles from home and even, finally, lent me
his cordless screwdriver. See you at Carnival. I will be the one who is NOT
grumbling about my back, whining that I'm tired and cursing the Captain under my
breath. Well, maybe just a little bit for old times sake.