Today I’m wearing:
- The Dress,
- Pink waterfall cardigan which came from Republic. Does Republic exist any more?
- A belt that was once my mum’s but it’s now mine because I say so.
- Leggings on tights. It was pouring with rain when I left the house, but it then stopped. My legs were toasty.
- Zulu beaded earrings from South Africa, which you can’t really see but are definitely in my ears.
I am running on empty. More precisely I’m running on 4 hours sleep, multiple squirts of Covonia throat spray, and half a dozen apple and blackberry boiled sweets. My throat is lined with razors, my sinuses are aching, and I have all the energy of a sloth with a hangover. Some may say I’m being melodramatic, but there’s no one who does illness quite like me.
Luckily, I didn’t feel like this yesterday. It would have put paid to a lovely day out. I say lovely in the content sense; the weather was biting and I was fair nithered. So much so that my compassionate friends donated extra items of clothing to help me ward off hypothermia.
Anyway, otherwise it was a good day. It being Tour de Yorkshire weekend, there were a number of street parties and things on. My friend Sarah and I wandered down to the Fossgate street party first, to have a look at what was on. After winning at the pub tombola and picking up a free large tub of Icelandic super yogurt (with spoon) we did what most Yorkshire folk would do: headed to the pub.
It was when we were sat at the Fossgate Social street bar that we were approached by the festival magician. Now, I had never come across a festival magician before, had never ever considered that there could be such a thing, but being the adventurous sort, I was keen to see what he could do.
It began with a magical Crunchie, and then swiftly progressed to cards. You know, the “pick a card, any card, is this your card?” usual spiel of many magical sorts. Sarah picked a card and showed it to me: it was the Four of Hearts. So far, so normal. The card appeared on top of the pack, in the pack, under the pack, as magical cards are wont to do. It then disappeared. This was odd. It was not in the pack, nor behind anyone’s ear. Very odd, indeed. Then the magician thought to check his wallet. With Sarah watching closely, he pulled out a Jack of Diamonds. This was not her card. I was then called upon to tap said wallet with my magic Crunchie. Sarah checked again, and lo! There was the Four of Hearts.
This next bit was my favourite. The magician (Adrian The Magician) began marking the card. He folded it in half, then half again, tearing a quarter off and handing it to Sarah, before magicking the rest of the card into thin air. He told me to tap the remaining scrap of card with the magic Crunchie, then Sarah to tap the magic Crunchie with the scrap of card. The vanished card would then appear inside the wrapper of the chocolate bar.
I opened the Crunchie and there was no card. The magician looked flustered. Perhaps the magic had gone awry, he said, maybe it’s inside the bar itself. I broke it in half, but nothing appeared to be there. It was then a glint of white caught my eye.
“There’s something white in the Crunchie!” I said.
Reader, the card was in the Crunchie. Three quarters of a Four of Hearts was inside a Crunchie bar. We ate the chocolate bar, just to check its authenticity, and it was a proper Crunchie alright. I’d had that bar in my hand all the time he was talking to us, even before Sarah chose her card.
The rest of the day passed in a freewheeling blur. I was struck by how professional cyclists can cycle faster uphill than I can downhill, but I suppose that’s why they’re professionals. By 10pm, I was knackered and beginning to feel the onset of a very sore throat.
The total so far stands at £70.01. That’s really good, thank you so much to those who’ve donated. To those who haven’t, anything you can spare would be greatly appreciated. £10 could create a “First Aid for Feelings Kit” for children, including worry dolls, stress balls, books and other materials to help them after the death of someone important with terminal illness. Could you spare that?
I’m off to Nottingham tomorrow to see my Grandma. It’ll be a late posting, but it’ll be up before midnight. Promise.