The ‘Ticket’ and the County Stafford Affayre


Gazette reader Stephanie Bird had a recent visit to the County Show, she was so inspired by the day she wrote us a little tale….

The ‘Ticket’ and the County Stafford Affayre

This tale began away-back ago…not years or months, but weeks a few, and stories a way into happen-stance and friendship anew. An instant born of happening and chance, that led to a ticket given – and grew, inspiring these words to share about a ‘Ticket and County Stafford Affayre. But, this is no simple tale…it jigsaws a piece and currents a time, picturing a fit in a journey of life, that writes away in the right direction.

The sleep of need, preluding this day, slumbered deafly into overlay and the day was, shaped into delay. Acceptance, drove the car today and parked itself upon a green, the pan-toned flanks of late reminders, fielded into gleam. Sunshine walked the way ahead, alighting on events instead, first stopped by wagons a’ Romany old and coppiced on through in wooded crafts, re-learned and traditions through in older past.

Second stopped by WI, the marquee, hosting, talented eye; flora and fauna, sew along with; food and books; tables strived in skill and looks. Certificates to win; one, two and three; rectangle colours of calligraphy.
Pit-stopped next, is cake and tea, fuels the way with energy, wards on the road, to stoppage three, to tractor lines of vintage scene. They diesel choke their way uphill and smoke a clearing in their wake, the plaid red, picnic blankets eye, puts out a stake, while bellied hunger calls a sigh and envy squints the space to lie. Spread out the square, that gives the time; to sit, to eat, absorb, recline and survey surroundings of the scene and bygones on the age of steam.

A mass of iron and forge to thought; fire historical foundry’s hammered from heat and sweat, cast back the mind to hard-working-ness. It luddites through to desolation; survival, threats, formed revolution; the age of steam; the pressure pot; icon to extremes of hot and tempers, progress down the line; and gauges on through human lives.
Melancholy, calls a halt at stoppage four and clangs upon the campanologist door. It bells the change of iron to bronze, community, church and celebrants galore. And rungs a tune from size, hand and rope, resonating loud, the cast of hope.

Resounding steps to stoppage five, bandstand its way to ear in brass, a quartet plays to peopled grass. It swings a sway and rhythms the foot, propelling forward and stops a stand, in handmade, coloured, felted goods of far off lands.

Orientation, leads a route to stoppage six, to back before, of wooded coppice mix. It flights its fancy to marquees end and stumbles upon a feathered pen. Medieval birds of majestic crown; talon of claw, intelligence in eye, the draw of prey that, slights their dive. Displays of talent, delight the crowds, bringing end and close and Stafford Proud. Addendum to this moments day…humility supports this thank you’d say…to a friendship, ticket and fortune fare, that played its part in a Staffordshire Affayre.

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