| Annually,
she is constructed from corn, oats, barley, fruit, vegetables
and seeds – hence where this little anecdote originates
– and to parade her along the South Bank until
she reaches her final resting point (and indeed her
ultimate demise) at the Market, where in front of a
raucous crowd she is ripped asunder.
All hell breaks loose as visitors
and vendor run pell-mell to scavenge for trophies. Disembowelled
and dismembered she rapidly becomes a poor state of
affairs: her carbuncled gourd nose whisked away; her
garlic hair braid snatched; even her ample cantaloupe
bosoms horded by overzealous participants in the spectacle...
Yet like the phoenix, she will
be resurrected at next year’s festival. Hopefully,
I will be at the market on the next preceding Saturday,
again dealing in body parts with the ‘Greenbutchers’
of Borough High Street.
802 words
© 2007 Brainrumbling Ltd.
|