A fine pair

I had planned to start with a jaunty little anecdote about our village maypole, but then I read that OBL has gone to join the great compound in the sky, so to speak, which rather put the dampers on my levity.  There isn't really much to say about him, though, that we don't all know already, and my own thoughts are probably best kept private.

Please do look at my new profile pic.  I hope I won't get sued for publishing it - I just couldn't resist.  I snapped it yesterday at the Maypole Decorating Ceremony.  As hairy pink legs are two a penny round here I'm assuming the owners of my picture's legs will be assured anonymity.  Check out the natty calf-warmers.  Did you ever see such a thing?  They look like an easy sock pattern for knitters who can't manage the foot bit.  Aren't his feet cold?

After that little digression I must now admit - once again - that I was wrong.  The old maypole was not removed for essential maintenance.  Maypoles are replaced by a new model every two years, which is probably a very good thing, considering the weather-beating they get in such a fluctuating climate.  This made yesterday's erecting ceremony even more meaningful, as it was a brand new pole, and the scent of resin pervaded the breezy May evening, along with the smoke from countless cigarettes and wafts of deep-fat frying from the local pub.  A small crowd had amassed to watch the band serenading the pole and hoisting a pristine, blue and white flag up into the air.  There were the dirndl/lederhosen wearers and the jeans wearers (Hedda blended with the former, the rest of us with the latter); there were proud little old ladies visibly moved by the sight of such staunch Bavarian feeling and the tunes from the beer-bellied trumpet players, or it could have been all the muscly hairy legs, I'm really not sure.  After a long-winded and completely unintelligible speech, the whole assembly was invited by the head Bavarian-looking person to join the band in drinking a few jars.  I am pleased and relieved to say that we demurred, preferring to shuffle home and sip lemon tea.  Once bitten, twice shy.