All's Fayre

Thought for the day:  Never go to a doctor whose office plants have died.  [Erma Bombeck]

Trust me. I'm your doctor.

Once, I made the foolish mistake of letting my husband talk to the doctor by himself. Yeah, I know. Dumb, huh? Weeks later...  after he'd painted our entire fence, gone bowling with his pals, and shot innumerable games of pool in our basement... I heard the doctor tell him it was okay to get out of bed now.

Doggone it, I let it happen again.

This past Friday, Smarticus had a minor in-office procedure done, and rather than sitting around waiting for him, he suggested I get a flu shot. You guessed it. He was in and out long before I got the darned shot. He ended up talking to the doctor by himself, and then strolling over to wait for me.

Told me he was supposed to take it easy over the weekend. Said he could take Tylenol or drink adult beverages if he experienced any pain.

The next day, he only worked in his garage for ... a little while. And he only ran ... a couple errands. Said he felt great, and we should go spend a...  little time at the British Car Fayre. No point in arguing with him. I grabbed my camera, and off we went.

The British Car Fayre, held in our little town every year, features just about every kind of British-made vehicle you can imagine, and plenty of them. Plenty of people to see them, too. There were some four-legged visitors, too. The owner of these little guys assured me that they aren't at all spoiled.

There were a number of the expected motorcycles there, as well as this rather unusual one. Best we could figure, it was like a rat rod of the two-wheeled variety.

One area was filled with Land Rovers, but this was the only one with a tent on top. Looks like a pretty neat way to go camping, doesn't it?

I say... does anyone recognize this dapper fellow?

The old MGs are nice, but dontcha LOVE the old house?

The show isn't ALL about cars, ya know. There's gotta be music, too

Lots of people seemed to enjoy the fish and chips prepared out front of the pub, but I couldn't get past the overpowering smell of cooking oil. (The malt vinegar sure smelled good, though.)

A Morgan, my favorite. These things absolutely ooze class.

Would you believe this little three-wheeler is a Morgan, too? Not sure, but I think it's called a Triking.

Did you realize the ultra-sleek Lotus is a British-made car? I must admit, I didn't.

This is a very early model Lotus race car.

Alas, the flux capacitor was missing.

This is a 1928 Riley Brooklands. (I never heard of them before, either.)

We were just starting to look at the Roll Royces when the sky opened up. I am talking RAIN. Serious rain. We had a big umbrella. In the car, of course. And a couple ponchos. Also in the car. So, like a lot of other people, we slipped into one of the shops until the worst of it passed.






When it rains, I let it.  [113-year old man, when asked for the secret to his longevity.]

After we got home, Smarticus started talking trash about maybe going out to his garage to do a little more work.

So, what can I say?  I had little choice.

Doggone it, it was time for me to take action, people! I decided right there and then the only way I was gonna make his butt take it easy was to ... have a party! That's right. Trip the light fantastic, baby. Invite some friends, fill the cooler with beer and ice, and put the cooler right there beside his spot on the love seat...

                                                  He agreed. Enthusiastically, too.

                                                And we invited a hand-picked thirty-six.

I'm not sure how much fun they had, but it's fayre to say we had a fine time. And he... took it easy.

                               Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.