Fair game at the Game Fair

Well into our 7th year in God’s own county – a Yorkshire quote, not mine – and we took the plunge and handed over scores of dosh for our first entry into the annual Great Bickering Game Fair.


The fair is held just on the way out of town on a vast area of green land owned by the shaven-headed Simon - GB's own Branson. Simon tends to walk determinedly and moodily around town invariably followed by a couple of acolytes with antennae twitching. Up to now I had never said more than ‘Hello’, ‘Morning’ or ‘Hi’ to him but as we pulled up at the entrance ready to pay there was the taciturn Simon barking orders at his minions to get the cars moving towards the Car park in some order. Suddenly he came over and apologised to us for the chaos and his temper…and threw us a beamer of a SMILE. This is a man I could sit down with one day and have a happyccino and chew over life in Great Bickering.

The Fair was spread over 2 enormous fields encircled with perhaps 80 or so stalls and turned out to be a great success with our refugees for a number of reasons. We had never seen such a large number of dogs in one day…mainly labs, spaniels, greyhounds and border terriers but with a smattering of Jack Daniels, Scotties and lurchers – this is clearly the Dog Social of the Year around North Yorks. The early part of the day was spent walking 10 yards and then chatting with a dog, walking a further 15 yards and stroking a pair of collies and so it went on. The girls spent time on the obligatory bouncy castle/slide complex and then on the karting track but we as the cash flowed from my pocket we averred on the offer of a chopper ride around town (at £25 a head).


The food was typical Yorkshire fayre – roast anything with chips, baps and tea. The stalls were enticing….Cantabrian Rat Catcher, The Stolen Tool Company, The British Ferret League, Wetwang Cushions, Louise’s Dog Leads, Arnold Philpott, Daughter and Grandaughters etc etc. Of course, what the Fair is about is ostensibly animals and their co-relation with Yorkshire folk but for me what was most fascinating for me was people-watching. Market Day in Great Bickering is interesting enough – retired farmers standing around in huddles talking about…well, what retired farmers talk about - but the Fair threw ALL the varied locals into this arena. One thing that Yorkshire folk do not seem to have much of a care for and that is Fashion. Come on Stella McC or Donatella – open a Fashion House up here, pet.



The last event of any mention for us was the Derwent Hunt Beagles – 3
riders in pink galloping around the arena blowing their hunting horns with the beagles eagerly following and most of audience orgiastically watching….save for our quintet – unabashed, Mrs R, HS and ES were jeering them. With my quiet sensibility I just looked embarrassed, took pics and imagined they were a rogue branch of the Balham HuntSab.....time to leave and head back to our car stickered with ‘For Fox sake – Ban the Hunt’ - all 4 tyres were in tact so it was off home.

* I have been asked, quite correctly, by Mrs R to state that Mrs R did in no way on that day in that circumstance jeer the hunters, though the lovely Mrs may well have caterwalled on other days in other circumstances....but that's a topic for another day. The record is straight-er!

The school lottery

We went to visit our 6th Yorkshire school in 6 Yorkshire years. Here's the tally....3 Nurseries, 1 Infant, 3 Junior, 1 Secondary and 1 Independent. I said to SC that, at this rate, we had another 15 Yorkshire schools to visit in the next 11 years. Would that possibly have been the case if we had stayed put in groovy South London.

At just 24 hours notice we were invited to visit a local Primary school with good word-of-mouth reports. The Head gave us a warm welcome and a thorough tour of the facilities, the teachers and the children. It seemed like a cut-down version of the first school we inhabited in Great Bickering - except that this Head resembled a younger, amusing, personable, Welsher version of Gunter Grass rather than our experience of the Bickering Head who was a cross between Stalin and Thatcher with the moustache and an overly posh Yorkshire accent.

In today's visit, the top class looked good, the lower class seemed rather beset by photocopies and colouring. IS and ES made all the right murmurs and gave all the correct looks. Lunch that day was toad-in-the-hole and sponge pudding - my kind of school. We left for home as uncertain as before as to which educational path to venture down.

SC was still agonising as I fell asleep. Until the next educational hiatus........


.....Departure - 4 April 2001

SC had lived in her Balham house for 19 years and I had been there 8 of those years. During that time we had delivered 3 girls back to the house and shared memories too numerous to recall. My family had often moved me and my sisters but I had never moved my family.

Now, this house was empty of EVERYTHING - except us. The five of us took our last voyage through the house stopping and saying goodbye to each room in turn. We ended up in the kitchen. HS produced a piece of card cut out in the shape of a heart on a piece of thread. SC placed the heart on the wall above the cooker - with HS's 6 year-old writing the card, 'We love you house'.

Standing outside the locked house we wished John and Stuart, our wonderful Removals men, a safe journey in their pantechnicon.

We all stood for a final look at our old house - SC was teary, we all hugged each other and gave a long, deep sigh and got into our loaded and trusty old Sierra. And we headed northwards. Forever!

Where to start?

Well, at the beginning, but…not quite at the beginning; and if anyone can grasp that conundrum for a while then I'd rather answer the question....Why am I writing a blog?

I suppose for 2 reasons.

Firstly, for all of my life I've lived in a major/minor city in England, or elsewhere in the world. Then in 2001 I found myself hauling our family 250 miles northwards to the North Yorkshire market town of Great Bickering. When we arrived here I did feel that we would have a quieter, simpler life compared to the complexities of the great metropolis. 6 rollercoaster years in Great Bickering have disabused me of my naievety. My career veered from Pharmacy degree/pharmacist to music photographer to (fiction) writer for the past 25 years: but the vicissitudes of life over the past 5 years have constrained my writing. Until now. So, I'm flexing my atrophying brain cells and I hope that our experiences and my thoughts might resonate....with someone, somewhere.

Secondly, as a result of this move I have some strong opinions not only on town against country but also with the infamous north-south divide, of which more, much much more later.

Initially, I hope to construct this blog in the form of a time shuttle - from life at the present day to events over the 6 years in North Yorkshire and perhaps beyond.

So, as the Frenchies might say......On y va!