Clowning at the Carnival

After a glorious August week of storms & gale force winds, Milford on Sea Carnival Day arrived. My wife concealed her excitement by sleeping late with an occasional snore & regular dribble. I however, was keen to get into the spirit of things, so I considered how we could join in the celebrations later in the day. We had no float or costumes, but having made a go cart when I was seven years old I felt I was evidently qualified. A quick search for suitable materials drew a blank. No pram wheels, no bunting & no lorry, so my float plans were looking a bit forlorn. Unperturbed, I turned my attention to our costumes. Clowns, I thought to myself. Yes, we could go dressed as clowns. Our costumes would be fine as my colourful wardrobe could provide for us both & a pair of my sizes thirteen’s on my wife’s size six feet would look just the part. The key to being a good clown I decided was actually all in the makeup. This however is not my area of expertise, but my wife has plenty of tubes & coloured stuff she gracefully applies to herself, so I was sure we had all we needed. I checked to see if the excitement had yet got the better of her, but her slumbers were still winning.

Wanting to be on the village green in plenty of time, I decided there was only one thing for it as I gathered together arm full’s of strange beauty enhancing cosmetics. As my wife slept, I commenced her reconstruction into a clown. Things went well at first, as I applied the exaggerated red lips, a big red nose, white circles around the eyes & giant black eyebrows. I even had time to stand back & admire my creation. As I noticed her ‘clown like eyes’ start to flicker I realised she was at last awaking from her beauty sleep. Her very large red lips then curled as she asked; ‘what are you doing this time you idiot?’ Now, as my wife regularly spends hours on her appearance, I thought she would appreciate my helping hand. However, I soon realised that she lacked any appreciation in my efforts, as before I could even answer her question her alarm clock came crashing down on the top of my head. I thought to myself this might not be a good time to ask her where we could get some wigs.

As my wife drank her second cup of tea & was slowly stopping calling me names, and I was really struggling not to call her ‘Co-Co’, I thought I would explain what I had been planning. This did not help, it simply increased the name calling to a new level. The rest of the day then took a move towards normality as we strolled to the Carnival to enjoy the delights of a traditional village experience. The Unlimited Swing Big Band and Total Voice Choir were great to listen to & the village green was alive with interesting stalls, hot food & fun for the kids. It was really quite a pleasure to sit in Bon Appetite with a coffee, slice of cake watching the Milford world go by.

We were invited by our friends to watch the evening carnival procession from their balcony. There we were joined by a throng of neighbours, a few of which enquired about the strange lump on my head. As we watched the beginning of the parade my earlier plans were still ringing in my head, so I decided to slip away & metamorphosise into a clown. On completion of my impressive transformation I attempted to discretely join the parade, but rather than being warmly welcomed, I was almost immediately wrestled to the ground by a bunch of majorette’s. As I waddled away, I was unable to identify which one left her baton in a particularly delicate place. My plan had not gone well. Thankfully, as I returned to the balcony in pain, no friends or neighbours recognised that I had been the ‘pathetic clown’ they were all discussing, however, my wife gave me one of her ‘knowing looks’. Ah well, perhaps next year I need a slightly better plan.