Early Arrival

Early Arrival

A Story by marybluebell
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village life, annual wi show. what happens when Miss Blossom has been asked to help at the show?

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          They say tradition keeps the place alive. This being no exception to the activities taking place on this particular day

Miss Blossom out in the garden picking the last of the summer flowers, felt privileged of the role she had been given.

          Each Spring and Autumn on the Sunday after the clocks have changed, the PRODUCE SHOW is put on by the W.I. The fund raising event, one of many, held in the village hall, dates back to the 18th century  With the money raised it goes towards various projects and upkeep of this unique village nestled in the Berkshire countryside.

          Situated in a conservation area no new buildings were permitted. Life remained as close to past times as was possible. Visitors flock to stroll down the cobbled street where vehicles, except the horse and cart, were prohibited. The locals dressed in the style of which ever era had been chosen for that year. Not much had changed over time. Mod cons had arrived in the village but only those deemed necessary to be essential for modern times.

          Going indoors she pot the flowers in the Victorian vase and placed them on the front windowsill.

The kettle boiled she made her mid-morning drink and returned outside to sit in the Arbour.

          "I remember when my Great Grandpa built this." She reminisced. "I remember, I was only 3 years old. Been playing with my dolls, giving them a tea party. The day was warm - could have been Summer."

Great Grandpa had summonsed the rest of the family saying, "Lizzy my love bring out the lemonade. This calls for a toast.''

Her Mother had brought out the tray with home-made lemonade in the blue enamel jug and the glasses. Everyone had congregated around the newly constructed Arbour.

She remembered sitting in the middle of the seat with Mother and father either side. Standing each side were Great Grandpa and Great Grandma. Father had acquired a box camera but who actually took the photos she did not know. yet they were all in the photo and it still stood on the side board - a reminder of that day.

          Miss Blossom had arranged to be at the village hall by 12 mid-day. Looking at her watch it said 11.15 a.m.. She finished her drink and went inside to get ready. her role would be to finish preparing the tables and putting the urn on for the refreshments. Much would have been brought in the evening before.

          The villagers contributed by bringing along fruit and vegetables from their gardens. Homemade jams, wines and beers and crafts to sell, as well as homemade cake for the refreshments.

Throughout the Summer months gardens were tended for the produce. There was a communal Orchard where apples and pears grew. One of the local farmers had developed a fruit picking farm where village folk picked the fruit to make jams and chutney. In the countryside Black berries, Crab apples and nuts were in an abundance enabling more goodies to be produced.

          Miss Blossom put her pots of Strawberry, Blackcurrant and Blackberry jam and Lemon Drizzle cake into her home made wicker basket. On top the crochet and knitted dishcloths. Taking a look at the grandfather clock in the hallway it said 11.45a.m. just enough time to walk to the hall.

          Arriving she tried the door but found it still locked. "Oh well, she thought, "the caretaker will not be long. jacks' always punctual."

Miss Blossom went over to sit on the wooden seat in the newly designed garden, to observe life and wait. Half an hour passed -12.30 p.m. She was beginning to get anxious. Gazing over to the church she saw the congregation leaving.

          "They are late, I wonder why? They must have had a long sermon."

Her friends waved and hurried on their way. They'd be going home for a bite to eat before returning to the hall for the afternoon event at 2.00p.m.

          "They cutting it fine, It's nearly one already."

Finally Jack came into view,

          'Been waiting long?' he asked.

          'Well actually yes,' She looked at her watch and continued, 'You're late. Unusual for you.'

          'Beg pardon madam, nearly twelve.' He showed her his watch.

He chuckled 'Someone I know forgot to put their time back one hour.'

          'Whoops .' They both said at the same time.

© 2017 marybluebell


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Added on February 1, 2017
Last Updated on February 1, 2017
Tags: village life, waiting, memories

Author

marybluebell
marybluebell

neath, wales, United Kingdom



About
I enjoy writing short stories based on life's experiences. Am a dog lover, nature lover, garden lover. more..