Festivities and other stuff.

Here I am on the train from London to Manchester. Amazingly, my journeys this weekend have been completely hassle-free. Of course, having said that, this train will probably now be delayed somewhere en route and I shall rue the day I ever expressed optimism about travelling. So far, however, it has all been good and I have even had an internet connection courtesy of Virginwifi. This does not mean that I can post this while in he train as my iPad continues to refuse to connect me to blogger properly. So it goes. 

I travelled down to southern parts on Friday to spend the weekend with our son and his family, part of the ongoing campaign to ensure that his small daughter feels quite at home with us. I suspect that there is a bit of an ulterior motive here. Next month the little family will travel to Galicia, spending a night with us on their way to Baiona, where they are hiring a holiday flat. Part of the plan is for the young parents to abandon the child with us for one night while they go off and have a night alone together, possibly remembering the romantic proposal that took place several years ago in Pontevedra. It sound like a good plan to me. 

So Saturday morning, Saint George's Day, saw me in the centre of Chesham where we had been assured the mayor of the small town was going to slay a dragon. We were a little sceptical, especially as on Friday evening he was appealing on his website for a damsel prepared to be in distress on Saturday morning. Anyway, we made our way down to town and came across a small group of people gathered around a chap decked out in pretend armour and the mayoral chain of office, a dragon statue- thing, recycled from Chinese New Year, and a "damsel", somewhat past her sell-by date. 

Oh, and there was a town crier as well, a lady town crier in this age of equality, telling the story of St George and the dragon and the damsel and announcing that said dragon would be slain and said damsel rescued. Which duly happened! After a fashion. 

It was, however, all very low key, despite the sunshine and the flags and bunting. One of the flags was a knitted thing, made by the mysterious ladies who deck the town centre there with knitted paraphernalia at the drop of a stitch. 

I couldn't help feeling that the Spanish might have done it all much more effectively. We reflected that perhaps next year someone should suggest that one of the local schools make a dragon out of papier maché, a hollow thing that could be filled with sweets and treats, rather like the Mexican piñata. That way, all the parents would turn out with their children. Good old St George could slice the dragon's head off and sweets and treats could pour out. A good time would be had by all. 

In that way a new tradition, the Chesham St George's Day re-enactment fiesta, could be born. It's an idea. 

Later: the train was not delayed but I arrived in Manchester to find that the Metrolink system was at a standstill. Consequently all buses were extra crowded and slow. It took almost as long to get from Manchester to Delph as it had from London to Manchester! Wonderful!