Show Offs
| Sunday 22 July, 2007 |
 No silly cider action |
Still - at least the Lambeth Show remains a FREE event not restricted to knobbers only, as was the case last weekend. I did spot the odd Lambeth Councilor wandering around though.
Twelve years of celebrating the countryside comes to the city and this was my first Lambeth Show where I needed my wellies. All that trampling through mud makes you a mucky pup, and it makes you wonder why Millets doesn't open a branch in downtown Brixton.
The perfect plan was for a Lovely Lido swim prior to the cider silliness at the Show. But being the Lambeth Show, it all got a little lost.
I umm-ed and ahh-ed over a Lovely Lido dip all morning as the skies began to bruise over Brixton. With the clock counting down to cider silliness, I had to swim SOON.
A short bike ride from onionbagblog HQ II and I was at Brockwell Park. So was the pissing rain. So much for the swim.
Ironically I took shelter in the Lovely Lido marquee set up by the brilliant Brockwell Lido Users group. And so here I was, wanting some Lovely Lido action, but instead watching a DVD of the BBC documentary all about the lido from back in the day, just over a decade ago.
I remember watching this film as a wide-eyed new to Brixton Boy back in '96. It was indeed a life changing TV moment for me as it paved the way for ten perfect summers at the Lovely Lido to come.
Except here I was, sheltering from the pissing rain, watching a film about the lido and wanting some swimming action pretty speedily ahead of the cider.
Half an hour later and there was enough blue in the sky to make a sailor a pair of underpants. Too late for a swim, what with the cider stall beckoning.
But the bloody queue for Mr Chucklehead's finest almost stretched back to the Lovely Lido. No silliness then, apart from having to drag the fragrant mrs onionbagblogger all around Brockwell Park and explain to her that the Cromer Smugglers aren't exactly Brixton boys.
We did the usual Lambeth Show routine of mixing with the wonderful local societies, avoiding dodgy double-glazing salesmen and laughing back at the laughing goats who were grinning at us.
The 'path to your retirement,' as offered by Help the Aged was appealing; the Lambeth Nu Labour stand came close to me mistaking it for a coconut shire, and the sign saying 'Information...' by the Alzheimer's Sufferers stall was, um, ...amusing, if memory serves me correctly.
There was a marked increased in tat merchants this year, with a couple of mega stalls simply selling dodgy perfume. Not exactly country, or city. Just crap.
We hid from some geezer trying to sign us up for life for over-priced and unreliable utilities in the sanctum of the Main Stage with some Lover's Rock adding some Saturday afternoon Lambeth vibes.
I witnessed a mad Brixton moment when a middle class Dulwich Mum thought it would be a good idea to introduce her little Tarquin and Tallulah to a Booze Crew Bag Lady and her rottweiler.
RUFFFFFFFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I don't know who I felt more sorry for - the mauled Tarquin and Tallulah or the rampant rottweiler.
Still, the Lover's Rock was a nice soundtrack for it all.
And so sometime around 5pm, cider-less and still itching for a swim, I made my way down the park towards the Lovely Lido. A quick flash of my season ticket and soon I was in my shreddies.
Two lengths in and it pissed it down.
Perfect.
Even by Brixton standards.
*no apologies for the number of pictures - this is the Lambeth Show!*
