Friday, 24 June 2011

The Royal Highland Show

For some unaccountable reason it stopped raining in Edinburgh yesterday.  This is unheard of in June - particularly since it was the opening day of the Royal Highland Show.  An ancient Scottish law has decreed that this day must be accompanied by torrents and thunderstorms that would do any self assuming rain god proud. Folk do not consider that they have had the true RHS experience unless they return home covered head to foot in mud.  Real thick glutinous mud.  And Scottish mud is the best mud in the world - showcased at the RHS.

Even when it is not raining, the Show brings untold benefits to the City and to Scotland, principally in the form of the highest quality of traffic mayhem to the west of the city.  But these benefits are strictly limited since there is no cricket at the Royal Highland Show.  No play, no demonstrations of technique and no groaning stands of equipment. Instead there are lots of cows, bulls,  tractors, and 4x4s.  And more cows, bulls tractors and 4x4s sometimes in a different order. There is show jumping and dressage and competitive standing beside horses.  For a change you can watch competitive standing beside sheep.  Fantasy Bob struggles to see the attraction of all this non-cricket stuff and so declines to attend this event.  He has made clear to the organisers that their wilful disregard of cricket will do them no good in the long run.  Their casual diregard of his blandishments is reaching a stage where it is beyond mere rudeness and FB may have to consider direct action, possibly of a Greek sort.  This would be regretable and he is sure the organisers will see reason soon.
Pit girls at the RHS -
not quite the same as in F1

Mrs Fantasy Bob, on the other hand, embraces the event with an enthusiasm that is disconcerting.  She will spend whole days there dawn to dusk and will not return until she is covered head to toe in mud and has seen touched or spoken with every horse and pony in the place.  There is danger that she will return home having purchased a cavalry regiment's supply of horse steering equipment and burdened with free samples of obscure Scottish cheese.   Through long experience and experiment FB has determined that horse steering equipment has little by way of alternative uses and what alternative use it does have have nothing to do with cricket.

FB doesn't quite understand why the complete absence of cricket does not seem a disincentive to Mrs FB's delight in this event.   FB comforts himself by the thought that it takes all sorts.

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