Today, my brothers and Sarah and niece met up to go to the Woolwich Arsenal Fun Day, an odd Army 'celebration' with automated guns, a plastic horse, a tank to climb in and out of aided by a tank soldier, burgers served by some very rufty-tuffty men who looked as though they would rather be barking commands at the beef patties rather than sandwiching them between buns, a deflated hot air balloon, fairground rides, a salsa band, and various Tudors wandering round (and Robin Hood).
An obliging hog lay on a trestle table being sliced at enthusiastically by more soldiers, and the General Public ( or should that be, Corporeal Public) pottered about en famille (just like us, I suppose) waiting to be recruited or whipped up into a frenzy of excitement by a half hearted clown called Iggy Piggy (I think). It felt like walking on to another planet for the afternoon: distinctly odd.
To be fair, I don't think it had really started up yet. I suppose I'd been hoping for shiny marching bands rather than a field full of trucks (what on earth was the bin lorry doing there?) fuming away in the humidity. It was hot if you had your coat on and cold it you didn't; strange weather!
After about half an hour, I think we realised that the event didn't have a heart to it and we wandered off, catching a bus to Greenwich and deciding to have lunch at a posh restaurant called Rivingtons, which was actually really nice. Highlight of the day was dipping chips in garlic butter (I was going to say 'Eat your heart out, high cholesterol', but that would be a bit morbid!).