99: bunting

As if the excitement of day 100 wasn’t enough, day 99 brought a carnival to our doorstep.

We got up and finished clearing up from the party and then sat in the sunshine in our back yard reading the Saturday paper. Suddenly we heard military drums and I leapt up and exclaimed: ‘I think there’s going to be a parade. We stood on a chair and peered over the garden wall, to find that silently and swiftly our street had been turned into a village fete, complete with Pimms stalls, bric-a-brac, helium balloons disappearing from the hands of small children into the upper atmosphere and bunting hung from the crucified Christ on the church opposite. A civilised clapping drew our attention to the dog competition that was happening just outside our back gate. We made ourselves look presentable and then crossed our boundary wall to meet the rest of our local community.



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