Village Fete Addendum.

Being now in a less curmudgeonly mood, I can report one positive aspect of the visit to the village fete.

I decided to check out the burgers, but held out little hope of success. This is a farming area, you see, and some of the farming is of the beef variety. I imagined the burgers would all be the proper sort. I walked over anyway, visibly trembling with trepidation since I knew the burger bar to be in the hands of the redoubtable Christine. (OK, I’m exaggerating, but this is a blog after all.)

‘Do you want a burger?’ asked Christine.

‘I have a confession to make,’ I replied.

‘What’s that?’

‘I’m vegetarian.’

‘We have vege burgers.’

‘Do you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Oh right, I’ll have a vege burger, then.’

She gave me two, on a bun, with onions, but no form of dressing. I felt truly honoured (even though the woman taking the money omitted to offer any change when I gave her £2.60 for a £2.50 burger.)

I offered a bite of my burger to the Lady B. She sneered – engagingly and prettily, it has to be admitted, but it was definitely a sneer. Now why was that, I wonder? Was it because:

a) She wasn’t hungry.

b) She dislikes burgers, or at least the vegetarian variety.

c) Being within three feet of something that has been close to my unhallowed self is the very definition of repugnant.

There’s just no knowing some people, is there?