Our neighborhood has a street fair every June. Normally we avoid it on the principle that people are annoying, and densely packed people standing in one's way in the middle of the road are even more annoying than the regular kind. Because we are about to move away, however, we felt we ought to give it a chance.
I have been growing fonder of our neighborhood the closer we get to leaving it. It is unpretentious and pleasantly full of people who vocally admire our infant. I especially enjoy our many non-English-speaking Russian neighbors. When our paths cross they make burbling happy noises to convey the depth of their baby joy. Really, I think every child should be doted upon by old men and women with walnut faces full of gold teeth, crying "Er ha oh? Woooo? Ah!" like so many ancient Mr. Beans.
(Incidentally, am I the only person who thinks Rowan Atkinson is rather dishy? Think particularly of the Elizabethan series of Blackadder. Who's the queen? ME.)
It turns out that people are indeed exceptionally stupid under fairgoing conditions, but there were surly small humans to make up for it. There is something cheering about the silent fury of a child who is deeply but resignedly Fed Up, lips pressed together and nostrils flared in profound irritation. Smile and the world smiles with you? Bah. What warms the cockles of my heart is the sight of pure unadulterated PEEVE, glaring out from under the canopy of a stroller.
There was also a spice stand, which was convenient because I had accidentally bought two containers of cumin when shopping last week, instead of one of cumin and one of coriander seeds. Why was there a spice stand at a street fair, between the lemonade and the balloon animals? Who knows. They were doing a pretty brisk business though. Party people want their packets of sea salt and cubeb.
Also, apparently, giant American eyeballs.
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