I left you positively hungering for news. Here you go.
(You must excuse the many photos; I am mildly stymied by the paucity of permitted subject matter.)
Mum’s Dahlias earned a creditable third in a large class.
My Christmas… thing… also made it to third, but against weaker competition.
My bottle bag came second, which puzzled me. I thought the judge would either love it to leopardskin-bits or abhor it utterly. For what it’s worth, it was an absolutely functional bag, although I had stitched it together a tad too tightly, so insertion of bottle was disturbingly akin to reverse midwifery; the bra straps were Actual Working Handles, after a fashion. (Pun alert! Do I need to highlight puns? I’m not sure who I’m writing to anymore. I am bad at deliberate puns, btw. Mine are mostly accidental. I am capable, like Edmund Bertram, of blundering on the borders of a repartee for half an hour together without striking it out.)
My jelly – batch number bloody seven, remember: the comically puny result of untold hours of work, and shocking amounts of wasted fruit – stormed in at first place. Small, but mighty. *crows immodestly*
My faith in the intrinsic justice of the universe was naturally instantly restored, although honesty compels me to add that, when I finally examined the jar for myself, I thought it a tiny tad over-set.
Everything else I entered came no-where; with the sole exception of the brownies – which tasted simply bloody divine – I thought deservedly so, as they met stiff competition. A 1st, 2nd and 3rd was, although satisfactory, nowhere near putting me in amongst the silverware. I had failed, damnit.
However! Harry had cruised to victory in both of his classes.
I was too excited to take a close-up of the hedgehog avec certificate – also, most of his bristles had fallen brittle victims to a day of small-fingered inquisitiveness by pick-up time.
We didn’t mind. Because (the movie of this post would feature a suspense-crescendo on the score just around… here), unbeknownst to me, there was a trophy for most points scored in the children’s section.
So! Last, littlest, but not, to my mind, least, Harry intrepidly beetled up to be presented with his silverware from *ta-dah* The Princess Royal, HRH Princess Anne.
I’m not sure Presentation quite covers it, because what he ACTUALLY did was reach out very promptly on arrival and make a determined effort to pluck it neatly from her mildly startled hands – but the ensuing hilarity was entirely good natured.
I briefly debated telling her that we HAD considered encouraging Harry to attempt a badger wearing a gas mask instead of a hedgehog, but discretion triumphed. And I’m fairly sure she’d’ve felt unauthorised to find it funny in public, although the midst of an Agricultural Society gathering was surely the place, if any. (If none of this makes sense to you… never mind. Rural joke. Pass on by.)
I have dutifully stumped up the £16 to have the blingy thing engraved. It’s never been won twice, I note, so we will give it another bash next year, although the 2015 dignitary is almost certain to be less exalted and hence have a tough gig; it’s taken the secretary over 20 years of trying in order to bag a Royal. I am quietly thrilled to bits that Harry won THIS year, naturally.
All in all: a good day. I like those.
Filed under: Parenting |