Skip to main content

Fun and festivals

The area around DFW is never short of a few festivals, it seems, and we made it along to a couple more this weekend. We had originally hoped to go canoeing but there was a distinct chance of thunderstorms. These never materialised, though Saturday evening was rather cool with a bit of rain, which wasn't ideal for listening to music on an outdoor stage; conversely, Sunday was very warm and muggy, which didn't look fun for all the people dressed in full Renaissance costume!

So, first up was Taste Addison. Addison is a well-to-do area north of Dallas, and this festival was a chance for the local restaurants to have a stand and sell snack-size portions of their wares for around $5. I tried fish & chips (not quite up there with the British seaside version, but not bad), chilli and gumbo (much more American) and spring rolls (double size portion because it was almost the end of the festival). For dessert there was a very delicious honey flan with fruit. This is the Mexican version of flan - not a pie-type affair but a kind of baked custard, something like creme caramel.

Music was provided by Bowling for Soup and Foreigner.


Bowling for Soup: local band, fun music, crazy way-out-there banter between songs - and where did they get that name from, anyway???


Foreigner: rock band which I'd seen once before in conjunction with Bryan Adams; I liked them a lot better this time, though whether they actually were better or it's just that my ears have got attuned to rock music since living with Graham, I don't know! They're better known for their more mellow stuff than the rockier songs ("I wanna know what love i-i-i-i-i-s....").

On Sunday Graham and I, and a couple of friends, Dave and Amie, headed down to Waxahachie (great name) for the Scarborough Fair Renaissance Festival. I was somewhat unprepared for the sheer scale of the thing - 38 acres of mediaeval-style buildings, wrecked galleons, a castle, stages and jousting area. And more people in costume than you would ever believe possible.


We were intrigued by the concept of turtle racing, but it turned out to be much less exciting than it sounded, with a white-haired guy doing a lot of patter about the World Turtle Racing Federation and such like and only about two minutes of actual turtle action. Three of the turtles just sat there and the littlest one made a run for the edge of the stage and was pronounced winner. Thrilling.

The falconry exhibit was a lot better. We admired a couple of owls and a bald eagle, and saw some nifty flying by a hawk chasing the lure. The display was put on by a charity which cares for injured birds of prey, so they provided a lot of information about bird conservation as well, and a chance to chat afterwards.


The bald eagle, proud symbol of America.

Jousting was a grand production, attended by King Henry VIII himself (and one of his queens). The baddie was suitably rude, and died in a very dramatic fashion, and the winner, fighting for Sir William of Whitehall, retired to loud huzzahs from the crowd.



There were shops selling all manner of things, from bows and arrows and chain mail to fantasy art and wooden goblets. Orange and strawberry sorbet mounded onto half an orange provided a cool relief in the heat, but Graham was laughing at my orange lips for ages afterwards.



We rather liked the hanging chairs and hammocks. This is Dave and Amie looking relaxed:


and I could get used to this life!

I wonder why he seemed so reluctant to buy me one...

Comments

John Evens said…
It always rains at foreigner concerts. I think we've seen them twice at Innsbrook and got completely soaked both times. I can't remember if there was a huge thunderstorm on both occasions or just the once, but that band definitely takes the (bad) weather with them. Still, it's always the most fun at their gigs. As for the Renaissance Fair - I'm ashamed of you!! OK, the bald eagle is pretty cool but everything else about those events is shameful (not that I've ever been)!

Popular posts from this blog

Trent Valley: the march of the pylons

In the 1980s, the River Trent supplied the cooling water for fifteen coal-fired power stations, each one gobbling up coal from the local mines and quenching its heat with gallons of river water. The area was known as Megawatt Valley . As the 20th century gave way to the 21st, the mines closed, the coal trains stopped running, and the iconic cooling towers, one by one, fell to the ground. The high-voltage electricity lines which connected the stations to the grid are still there, however, and they dominated the walk I did today. The stately silhouettes of pylons stalked across the landscape, carrying fizzing power lines which sliced up the sky. At one point, I was within view of two of the remaining sets of cooling towers. Diving further back into history, I parked by Swarkestone Lock on the Trent & Mersey Canal, walked past St James' Church, and arrived at Swarkestone Bridge, a 14th-century causeway which still, remarkably, carries traffic today. It was famously the southernmos...

The Churnet Way: a wonderful walk

The loop from Oakamoor to Froghall and back was one of the most enjoyable walks I've done in a long time. It had a bit of everything: woods, ponds, rivers and railways; steep climbs and sweeping views; an unusual church, an ex-industrial wharf, and, as a final bonus, car parks with toilets. Of course, the sunny weather helped too. I parked in Oakamoor and set off along a quiet lane called Stoney Dale. This is the route of the Churnet Way, which deviates away from the river for a couple of miles. After a while I turned right and climbed up through the woods on a gravelly path, then dropped down to the B5417. a spring in Oakamoor   Crossing the road, I entered Hawksmoor Nature Reserve. It has some fine gateposts commemorating John Richard Beech Masefield, "a great naturalist". I found a photo of the opening of the gateway in 1933; unsurprisingly, the trees have grown a lot since then! A track took me down through the woods to East Wall Farm. Lovely view! Nice duck pond as ...

Theo Alexander

The due date was fast approaching, and, having had Toby five weeks early, this pregnancy was feeling like it had dragged on far too long.  On Sunday morning, two days before D-Day, we went to church, wearily confirming to eager enquiries that yes, we were still here, no baby in tow yet.  And then, at 3:30 am on the morning of Monday 10th February, my waters broke and things began to get moving.  Fast. Yes, I know I had to apologise to you ladies who have gone through long-drawn-out labours last time , and I'm afraid I have to do it again.  The change in the midwife's attitude when we got to the hospital was almost comical; she breezed in and put the monitors on and said, "I'll just leave those for a few minutes, then".  Back she came for a proper examination, had a quick feel, and: "OK, we'll get you to the delivery room RIGHT NOW," followed by a mad dash down the corridor in a wheelchair!  Our new little boy was born at 5:16 am. You...