This week’s words: Itch Turnstile Ambisinister ( Narrow Ephemerid ( Turnstile Bribe Chamber Plush Shiver Benign Destruct
It was going to be a grand grand event. The turnstiles were clicking over as every one had been imbued with the Country Fair itch. Yes we were as they say itching to get there. Paying our money at the turnstiles nearest home, the other ones were at another six hundred metres away and why walk so far even if it meant a more plush turnstile as getting in was all that really mattered.
All around the town’s showground were spread stalls of every variety. The Country Women’s Association Devonshire Teas and Doily stand always did a roaring trade. Marj Wilson organised it all and despite the narrow minds of many of the righteous ladies of the CWA they went all out on this one day of the year to raise as much money as they could for the town’s Chamber of Commerce.
Marj even had the equivalent of a kissing booth though truth be known it didn’t attract a lot of customers early on but later in the day when many had frequented Daisy’s Bar and had a skin full Marj and her middle aged CWA ladies took on an attraction few thought they possessed. It was well known that bribes of varying size were paid in Daisy’s front bar well before the CWA Kissing Booth increased in popularity.
But with a gutful of Daisy’s finest, ones ambisinister skills were less than normal and your brain was rejoicing in the knowledge it could tell your mouth in particular to do things a sane person may well baulk at. It was of course heaven for Miss Stella the CWA Secretary who would elbow her way in each year to take the ‘brunt’ as she’d say of the six o’clock swill fallout.
She was not one to worry about the destruction of her good character as just this once each year she let her hair down and puckered up to all comers. Now the sight of Stella’s puckered lips might well have sent shivers through a blind man but you had to admire her resolve as no man or woman was denied a big sloppy one from the normally benign Stella.
Wiping away the remains of her fire engine red lipstick and brushing the ever-growing number of ephemerid from her face she was happy in closing the CWA stall and Kissing Booth having made more than a tidy profit. As night fell and the Fair lights came more into play it was every man for himself in terms of the ephemerids who swarmed around the warm lights in their millions.
In the end it was always a night to remember, stories abounded and as we made our way home through the now silent turnstiles it was with expectation that we looked forward to next years Country Fair.