The Sandwich: #56

The Sandwich


Mr Piano thinks that we have probably got quite enough free mouse mats, pens and trolley tokens, so today we are going to visit a food fair to gather up some free samples. I was quite surprised because it turns out that a food fair is nothing at all like a proper fair. I thought I would get to go on the spinning pasty ride, the sausage roll flume or the giant cheese wheel, but it was just a bunch of stalls offering burgers made out of exotic animals, crumbly wedges of foul-smelling cheese and homemade wine that tasted like widdle. There were also a surprising number of stalls selling artisan dog biscuits. You wouldn't have thought that an animal that spends so much time licking its own bottom would have a palate sophisticated enough to appreciate such things, but hey, what do I know?

Another thing about food fairs is that there are other things there apart from food. There are 'arts and crafts'. I'm not at all certain what 'arts of crafts' is, but, from the look of what was on offer, it appears to be old twigs painted white, with bits of string and ribbon on them, and put on sale for a stupidly massive amount of money.

Entertainment was being provided by some folk singers. Folk songs are a bit like proper music, but they are all on one note and they go on for a week. They are usually about people going away for a long time, then coming back to find that their sweetheart has perished by falling off a cliff, or being trampled by a pig, or something. One of the men was singing about how he had been away at sea for fifty years, and while he was away his wife had had to scrape a living as a washerwoman, and had drowned when she had been overcome by soap fumes and fallen into a tub of filthy water. I didn't believe him, though, because he didn't look old enough or windswept enough to be an old sailor. Turns out I was right because I got talking to his wife - who wasn't dead, actually - and she told me that he worked in the planning department at the local council. The ruddy liar!

Anyway, we came away from there with four sacks of stinky cheese and some fancy doggy biscuits, and Mr Piano seemed reasonably pleased with the haul.



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