Aaron Connor (22 page)

They were being led out of the
village and towards a gravel path, by a huge brass band. The
members of the band were all dressed in purple uniforms. The band
was playing It’s a long way to Tipperary, it seemed that everyone
in the village knew the song and were singing along. I and Lizzie
had learnt the words as part of our History lessons, so we sang
along to.

Off we went down the road,
singing along in a parade of eccentric and wonderful crazies. We
saw some people dressed in sweater vests with handkerchiefs on
their head, Wellington boots and fake toothbrush moustaches to look
like Mr Gumby from Monty Python’s Flying Circus. We also saw some
Farmers walking by, singing loudly and drinking from tankards of
cider. If you asked me to paint a picture in which describes
Britain in one image, it would quite simply be this parade marching
through the countryside.

It wasn’t soon before there was
a tremendous cheer from everyone in the crowd, the moment that the
huge hill came into view. At the very top were some people who had
been there all morning, who waved down to us as they came along.
There were some windbreaks set up on both sides of the hill, to
divide the people running down from the audience. There were also
some camera crews from various broadcasters ready to document the
event. At the top of the hill was a fairly plump looking farmer
who, in his hands, held the huge wheel of cheese. The crowd entered
the field through an opened wooden gate.

The animals that usually grazed
on this field were moved into the fields next to Cooper Hill. The
animals looked over from their fields at Copper Hill, all in utter
confusion to what was going on.

Me and Lizzie went into the
field and joined the thickening audience who were gathered behind
the windbreakers. Some people dressed in their wonderfully daft
costumes were already beginning to take their positions at the top
of the hill. Many of them were stretching and limbering up, ready
for the task ahead. Lots of people in the crowd were chanting like
they were at a football match, while others shouted words of
encouragement to people they were supporting.

The brass band kept on playing
various jolly tunes: Pack up your Troubles, Don’t Dilly, My Old
Man’s a Dustman and Belgium put the Kibosh on the Kaiser. Everyone
sang along and clapped along to the beat. There was not one face in
that crowd that wasn’t smiling. It was a gloriously warm and sunny
day in the English countryside.

The man holding the cheese came
to the centre of the line of people at the top of the hill. He
placed the cheese in the middle and, after a moments pause for
dramatic effect, let it roll.

Off they went down the hill
after that wheel of cheese. The crowd began to shout and cheer. Men
wearing flat caps ripped them off of their heads and whirled them
around in the air like a lasso. There were lots of shouts of: “Come
on” and “Go on my son”. People were flipping, slipping, sliding,
rolling, falling, sprinting and cart wheeling and acting like they
were having a ball. It was hilarious!

The event, I must say, is
pointless. Even when something is pointless, doesn’t necessarily
mean that it isn’t fun. In fact, the more ridiculous and pointless
the event the funnier it is. I like to compare the Cheese Race to
Britain’s other silly yet famous event, the Flying Competition.
This is where people make “flying machines”, run with them off a
seaside peer and see how far they will travel until it plummets
into the sea. Once again it’s utterly pointless, but a bloody good
laugh.

You may not believe, but me and
Lizzie even had a go. We waited until all of the pre-planned
runners had gone down. The pre-planned runners were usually local
celebrities or people running for charity. One that I noticed was a
man in a green bikini that was raising money for a children’s
hospital. After they went down the hill, it was then the turn of
open runners. This was the round where anybody in the audience
could join in. We didn’t know if we’d ever come back here again, so
of course we took the opportunity and went up that hill.

We made our way up and stood
with the others. I saw a bloke in a green morphsuit, some farmers,
a man dressed as a nun and a couple of boys and girls around our
age. Looking down we suddenly realised how steep this hill was. The
road below looked like a tiny grass snake in the distance, curling
and winding its way across the countryside. I felt the adrenaline
run through me as I looked out across the beautiful British
countryside.

A bizarre sense of
enlightenment came over me. I felt refreshed and anew. I could see
the sun streaking through the clouds, birds flying ahead and world
full of breath-taking beauty. This, I thought, is what Britain is
all about. I smiled at this bizarrely surreal moment that I didn’t
expect to happen. It has become the one thing that has kept me
going ever since. It is still the memory that I always recall in
times of difficulty. When the world seems full of darkness and
depression, I look back to that brief moment where I realised what
it meant to be alive. I realised that this world is ours. This
stunning piece of natural artwork is the place in which we inhabit.
We reshape this world to our liking. As long as that countryside is
still there, as long as natural beauty will still shine through an
age of prospering technology, then I’ll always believe that light
will always pierce through the darkness. That image of the sunlight
streaming down onto the landscape, the edges of the clouds lined
with pink, the birds soaring past and the way it made me feel
inside will never leave my memory. The moment in which I saw the
clouds must have only lasted for a second, but it felt like a
lifetime.

“
On your
marks!” shouted the man holding the cheese in its place, “Get set
and GO!”

The wheel of cheese was
released. I was snapped out of that epiphany and ran down the hill
after the cheese. I saw people flipping over dips in the ground all
around me. The cheering crowd was nothing more then a blur as I ran
past them as fast as I could. Lizzie was running next to me and was
giggling like someone who had inhaled a little bit too much
laughing gas. I was laughing as well. It was a very comical
experience. The speed that the steepness of that hill can make you
go, can easily make you light headed. When you’re light headed,
anything is funny.

We reached the bottom before we
realised it. There were a pile of people at the bottom where they
all fell over. Both me and Lizzie tripped over these people and
fell on top of them, adding to the now increasing mountain of
fallen runners. I have not laughed so much before then and not
since. I could see Lizzie’s face going red with laugher. I could
feel my face getting hotter as I struggled to stop laughing. Very
soon everyone who had started at the top of this hill, were now on
top of this pile right at the bottom. The crowd were cheering and
laughing at the humorous sight of all these people, who were unable
to get up because they were laughing so much. A new and unexpected
game had just begun, “try to get back up from the ground”.

People would begin to rise up
into a standing position, only for another fit of laughter to come
and cause them to double over and eventually fall onto the ground
again. The crowd began to cheer on this new game, once again
shouting words of encouragement. Mud was swirling around the ground
which made people slip and fall over again. I have no idea how long
I and Lizzie were there for, but it felt like forever. Eventually a
round, rosy faced farmer took both of our hands and, with one
massive pull upwards, brought us to our feet.

The crowd gave out a loud:
“Way!” as the farmer helped us up. The farmer, who still had a
tight grip on our hands, brought up our arms like at the end of a
wrestling match. The crowd laughed heartily and did the three of
us. I can’t remember a part of that day in which we weren’t all
laughing.

After we’d all finished on the
hill, we headed back towards the town. In a field of someone’s
farm, a pavilion was set up. There were several gazebos and with
tables with tea, scones and cupcakes inside of them. Bunting was
hung in-between the gazebos and in-between the barns. It was like a
proper old school village fate. Even the farm animals were
decorated in ribbons and bows for the occasion.

Everyone filed into the field
and spread themselves across the entire area. Cups of tea was
brewed, scones were served with butter and jam, slices of fruit
cake was passed around and many chocolate biscuits found themselves
scoffed up in minutes. Music was bellowing at top volume from the
main pavilion. It was playing all of those corny, silly and yet
uplifting party tracks. A sheepdog from the farm was allowed to
roam around the field, where he found many people who were willing
to feed him on scones and biscuits. There were even some tractor
rides for little ones going on at the back.

We saw Sir Phillip coming
towards us across the field. We could see that he was holding two
plates in his hands. When he came closer we discovered that the two
plates had fully breakfasts on them. He finally arrived in front of
us and passed us the plates with some cutlery.

“
Here are the
breakfasts you wanted” he said, “sorry they’re a bit late. Are you
staying here tonight as well?”

I and Lizzie looked at each
other. We made the decision just by the expression on our faces and
the look in each others eyes. We turned to face Sir Phillip
again.

“
I don’t think
so” I said, “We’d best be travelling on, after we’ve finished these
of course. Thank you so much for your hospitality. Do you want us
to pay you now?”

“
I could
certainly pay for a few more scones, what?” said the old man
grinning, “Yes, you can pay me now if you like”

I put my hand in my tracksuit
pocket and took out the envelope of money. From the wad of cash
inside I took out the £20 required and gave it to Sir Phillip. Once
he had the money and stashed it away, he stood to attention and
gave us a salute. Both me and Lizzie also stood to attention and
returned the salute.

“
Good luck” he
said, “where ever you decide to go”

“
Thank you” I
said,

“
No, thank
you” said Sir Phillip, “now I can have one of Mrs Geeson’s
extraordinarily heavenly cakes. Cheerio!”

The funny old man then made his
way across the field, towards a table of cakes which was run by a
pretty woman and her two daughters.

The decision to leave wasn’t
because we weren’t enjoying the party, because we were. We would
have loved to have stayed and danced to a couple of cheesy songs.
The thing was that there was no one here who needed any help.
Everyone was in high spirits and was enjoying the day. There was
nothing here for us to do in the way of assistance, so we knew that
after we had our breakfasts we would leave and get back on the road
again.

We found some white, plastic
garden chairs on the edge of the field under some bunting. We sat
down and began to eat the delicious breakfast. Sitting next to us
was a young lad was looked maybe a couple of years older then us.
He looked very well off as he wore the height of fashion and had on
a very expensive looking green gilet. He was talking in a very posh
accent down his expensive phone to someone on the other end.

“
So the Rolls
had broken down?” he said, “well that’s a bit of a blow isn’t it.
Dear, oh dear. Well, how am I going to get home now? I told you to
stay here with me, not go off somewhere else so you can make a
burger king. So, what? I’m stranded here in “cider land” while
missing out on Daddy’s clay pigeon shooting party. I mean really.
What ever shall I do now?”

“
Do you want a
lift mate?” I asked,

“
What?” said
the young man,

“
Do you want a
lift?” I repeated, “We’ve got a Moped with a sidecar, you can ride
in that if you want”

“
Sidecar?”
said the young man, he was grinning from ear to ear and was looking
excited as he drew his attention back to the phone, “No need
Richard, I’ve got a lift. Some charming fellow has just offered me
a ride in his motorcycle’s sidecar . . . I know! I know! See you in
a little while, bye”

“
Where do you
want to go?” I asked,

“
I live with
my Father at Grumsby Manor in Aylesbury, Buckinghamshire” said the
young man proudly, “it takes no longer then an hour and forty
minutes, but we can stop off at some service stations I’m sure. By
the way, my name is Harry Grumsby, nice to meet you two”

Harry put out a friendly hand
to us, which we both shook in turn. Us two were getting pretty used
to shaking people’s hands, since we were now meeting up with so
many new people. This young man seemed nice enough. Then again Joe
Pepper seemed very nice to us, so either way we were ready for any
sort of unexpected surprises. From Harry’s background we were
expecting some sort of classed based discrimination, we didn’t get
any. In fact, Harry seemed to be a very open minded and non
judgemental person, which is exactly the kind of people we loved to
come across.

Me and Lizzie finished up our
breakfasts and placed the empty places on a garden table just on
the side. We had everything we needed, which included our money and
the keys for the Moped. Nonetheless, we still wanted to go back to
the Bed and Breakfast to sign out, just good manners init? That’s
what we did. Me and Lizzie signed out at the Bed and Breakfast
while Harry waited outside, admiring the bike.

“
Lovely
machine!” he said to us when we came back out, “I’m not really sure
that the sidecar matches though. What does it matter? I’m still
going to ride in a sidecar! Ha-ha! Jolly good fun!”