I’ve commented before about the pro’s of living near a town centre; easy access to shops, library, GP and so on, the con of living here, is also proximity to all the shops and of course the people. For over a week, the freaking circus was in town and we had our ears assaulted by an a-hole with a megaphone and pounding music. The music might have been nice, but all we heard was the boom-boom of it due to the bass being turned up too high. Each night there were 2 shows by the sounds of it, with even more on the weekend. The one night I was close to losing it and felt very stressed by all the noise. It must have been a nightmare inside the big top, deafening quite literally, and I don’t know why they do it. I’d put money on the fact that the councillors who allow this kind of disruption don’t live within sight nor sound of it.

It’s not just as an adult that I don’t like this kind of thing. When we were young, against my Mother’s advice, my Father dragged us all to the circus. Back then, they had animals too in the circus, but we weren’t fazed. Clowns are boring and ridiculous IMO and I can’t abide slapstick of any kind. The trapeze artists are stressful; they might fall, and who wants to see that? The animals probably hated doing ‘tricks’ for treats. And the ringmaster was always some a-hole with a megaphone. Against all laws of probability, we all fell asleep from the numbing boredom of it, and my Father had to wake us or carry us back to the car. He went home in a foul mood that evening. What a laugh…

This morning, before 7am, some idiot in a nearby garden was doing goodness only knows what but walking to the front door after a nice walk, we heard a loud boom, a whoomph, and saw what can only be described as a fireball followed by a pall of black smoke. Once in, I quickly closed the windows and watched from the safety of the bedroom window to check their property wasn’t on fire. Morons!

We’ve had a weekend of yet more rain, hail too, and high winds and I confess I harboured a secret wish that the winds would take the big top and whisk it away to somewhere where we wouldn’t be able to see or hear it. What a delight that would have been, to see the colourful tent fly away, with the ringmaster on top clutching his megaphone for dear life, and his minions hanging on to the ropes to try and anchor it, only to land, miles away, in a boggy field with nobody to entertain except the cows. I’m not nice sometimes LMAO.

It puts me in mind of a particularly windy weekend many decades ago in Wales. I’d phoned my then husband, in work, to be told he couldn’t come to the phone because he and his colleagues were lashing ropes to the garage in which he worked, to try and keep the roof on. He phoned later, having successfully secured the roof, and I asked if he’d be home in time to help clear up the wrecked shed in the garden. But we don’t have a shed, he’d replied. We do now, I’d told him. Looking out of the kitchen window, earlier, I’d seen the shed in the garden at the end of ours, be lifted by the wind, and dumped into our garden. Later, he and the owner managed to haul it back into the correct garden. Whilst it has been awful here, thankfully it wasn’t as bad as the incident above.

Enjoy the rest of the week and take care if out and about in this awful weather.