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School Fair


 
 

 

Whilst rifling through the usual paraphernalia in my daughters school bag I discovered a bordering-on-begging letter for help with the summer fair. I have never really had much time to get involved with school stuff really but have always secretly wanted to be in that number if I’m honest. It all seems so smiley and wholesome, what’s not to like? I hear lots of busy mums muttering to the contrary but I’m guessing they secretly want it too. Luckily, I was about to fulfil my dream as I would be free that very afternoon. Now I wouldn’t say it was on my bucket list but I was a little excited. How uncool am I? What a lovely way to spend the afternoon, I thought excitedly. Oooh, I’ll take my bunting and make a pretty sign for my stall an’ all.

 

My tombola suggestion was given the nod and barely two weeks later, I found myself in the thick of the action. It was like being backstage at a broadway production. The orchestra warming up whilst cast and crew rushed around before curtain-up to an expectant public. Well kind of. There I was in a packed school hall surrounded by piles of condiments and several much more experienced stall holders. A young tuba enthusiast was ‘parping’ in the corner. I suddenly felt very nervous. Expected to set up ourselves I was faced with the task of shifting two tables from a faraway classroom back to the hall. After successfully getting one (despite a momentary tug-of-war with the face painter) and tucking it away in a corner, I returned with my second only to find that the first had been nicked by none other than the parish stalwart. Yes, with four grandchildren in the school and a former teacher herself, she had opted to ditch her otherwise impeccable morals for good old thievery instead. Nice. The wholesome veil of the pta had been stripped bare to reveal that it was survival of the fittest in this game. Ignoring the lump in my throat (talk about feeling like I was back at school!) I decided to up sticks and set up outside, nicking someone else’s table whilst I was at it. Listen, I was against the clock and I’m sorry but it’s every man for himself at the summer fair. Several tense minutes later, me and my tombola were ready to take on the world….until the heavens opened.

 

I’ll cut to the chase – it was hell. Hundreds of kids, arms outstretched, as if they had all won Willie Wonka’s golden ticket. Not a queue in sight, too much shouting, raffle tickets turning to mush in the rain, bunting hanging on by a thread. Oh and a really bad case of fuzzy hair.

 

You’ll find me amongst the playground cynics these days.

 
 
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