Carnival

The school blossoms today, it is carnival day. Hours of secret preparations and, frankly, hard labour, have lead up to this event. R is the blacksmith in a Medieval castle. B's theme was 'countries of the world'. He is English, in a French school, so you might think he would have chosen England. But no. No fun dressing up as who you are. He wanted to be an Argentinian. Do not ask me how I got together an Argentinian costume and artefacts, I am still unable to talk about it.

The school blossoms today, and the weather is foul, lashing sleet. R&B charge in at 7am - I am on the beach behind a windbreak with seven women with fat thighs, unable to return to my flat in Crystal Palace which was being raided by a gang of criminals. Don't ask. I struggled to consciousness and at this very moment, R chose to find fault with the costume I had so lovingly laboured over, despite showing no interest in it at all the night before, preferring instead to play Battle of the Killer Aliens with the neighbours. Within seconds he stood Accused by a derranged squinting bent-double woman in a nightdress, of Losing his Belt, Losing his Kings robe/chain mail and now shabby and torn Blacksmith's work tunic, leaving his underpants on the floor, never tidying up and Complaining and Spoiling Things.

R rushed upstairs, clutching his falling trousers, and busied himself searching. B rushed downstairs and started work on the 30 pancakes I had prepared at midnight - spreading them with milk jam from Argentina, and cutting up the contents of a tin of peaches and skewering them with toothpicks. He put on his costume and declared he just looked like a very silly guy. I prepared to launch my defence when I realised he was quite happy about this.

It got later and later, finally R's belt and tunic were found (by me, following some leads from R which he could have given me the night before when I asked), the offending apple motif on the apron had been covered with a broach, all the bits had been tied on and hoisted up, people were running in all directions with sticky knives and falling down trousers and J-C and the cats got in the way. We bundled flasks, baskets of gingerbread iron tools (some very convincingly burned), pots of peaches and plates of pancakes, a pretend fire made from sticks, bark and red and yellow scraps of chiffon, a log anvil, a selection of ironware, and small realistic model of a knight in a suit of armour and an Argentinian flag into the car, B scraped the slush off the windows, warmed the engine and put on the back window heater. Then we were off.

Miraculously the traffic was kind and we arrived with seconds to spare and found a parking space, and despite the shakey start, the carnival spirit rose. R's class was transformed into two rows of canopied shops, I didn't recognise anyone. R had been given a real anvil and some ironware from a teacher who is a part time or sometime blacksmith. The two apothecaries were in the corner bent double over their jars of sweety pills. 'Aha, tasting your own medicine I see' I said, roaring with laughter, 'It must be good then...' roar roar - they gave me a sweet to buy my silence. A teenager dressed in a black balaclava & carrying a sub machine gun soared in on rollerskates. Someone held the door open for him, he thanked them politely, and held the door open for someone else. The Troubador, Fool and Juggler explained their differences, and put on a show with a performing bear, clarinet and acrobatics. A lone potter showed me his brick-like thumb pot and explained it was mine for 100 Euros. The stone mason assured me he was a sculptor. The fishmongers appeared confused but their biscuit fish were a marvel. One teacher was dressed up as a beggar, and the other was selling water, are they feeling impoverished?

...I hastened to the English stall in B's class and made them a sign saying Tea with MILK, something they did not appear to know about England, and made some encouraging remarks in English about chocolate chip cookies at the American stand. The teachers were all dressed up too, and pretending they were not teachers. B, who wanted me to come, ignored me with great aplomb. His partner, whose grandmother is Argentinian, was wearing a genuine poncho and straw hat and crooning to a model guitar. The Spanish girls next door were impressed. Russia and Vietnam were too busy to talk. Lebanon was represented by two coy girls who swept up their long dresses and eyed me from behind their veils and the Polish stand was, as yet, nothing but a sign reading POLSKA.

I was sad to leave - but will soon be back...to clear up.


AND THEN THE HOLIDAYS!!!!