Back to the Future

I was at work this morning and met up the the women folk afterwards at a vintage fair. Partly because I was interested to go, but otherwise because my eldest daughter is a bit of a vintage weirdo.

I get in the hall to discover that one of the bovine scluptures has been stolen from the centre of town and hidden here, its the only conclusion that is possible as we are in leith after all. They have since been replaced with art tigers aparently and a red haired friend of mine was recently seen riding one.

They want us to pay £2 to get into the clothing bit, but I decide that Im going to dinghy this as im not paying to go to a jumble sale of clothes that I was trying to forget from the 80's and before. I walk past confidently as if I have paid and spot half of my fathers wardrobe hanging up. I am confident that at least two of the tweed jackets belong to him and i check the inside of the pockets for his name in bic biro. I decide they may well be his, but decide not to liberate them back to his possession.

I become acutely aware of the people that are milling around, some look well conventional, others looking like they have the odd item of vintage clothing in their wardrobe and others look like they just stepped out of the 30's, 40's or 50's and have made a real effort coifing their hair and drawing pencil lines up the back of their legs, waxing their moustaches and perfecting soap recipes that smell of carbolic and moth balls.

Its like being on the set of goodnight sweetheart.

There is various stalls of cakes and organic produce and while browsing this I am snapping the people going past. I notice one lady in particular and pluck up the courage to ask for her photograph as Im digging her funky 40/50's style. The pose is entirely her own doing.

I cant make up my mind if she would look more at home on a hot rod burning down route 66, or painted on the side of my spitfire if i had one. She also gives me a flyer for her up and coming burlesque revue and I feel obliged to give it a plug, www.missymaloneandfriends.com. The flyer actually says .co.uk but i cant get any page to load with that, so you might want to get that fixed luv'

I think that we might go.

Now that im on a roll, I spot another chap who looks like the spiv from dads army, private joe walker and I get him to pose in whatever way he wants, its a toss up between him and missy malone, except I decide eventually that he looks like a twat, with his little twisted tash. He did however, seem like a nice bloke and was up for a laugh when I asked him to show me his stiff upper lip.


Frazer: I am refusing to obey.

Mainwaring: You'll be in charge of the liquor permits Frazer.

Frazer: I'm right behind you Captain.

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