It was the high point of the year, the Little Uffetton Village Festival and the best day was the Saturday with the procession.
All the local clubs in fancy clothes and lots of bands playing loud music march around the town five times – the village is not that big – for two hours. The children get sweets and the men gawk at the young girls and everyone has a good time. The girls from our school are allowed to go and watch too.
Who brings up the end of the parade? Which club is the most important in the village? The Uffetton Hunting and Shooting Club of course! All two hundred members in uniform.
At the front is the President of the club with his two daughters to his right and his wife and me to his left. We are all dressed up in our traditional dark green hunting uniforms with hat. And of course a hat with that very important and very expensive feather in it.
We enter the town square for the last time, leave the main procession and wheel round to the Mayor who is standing on the steps of the town hall. He gives a short speech.
The President pulls a pistol from the inside of his green jacket. No, he doesn't shoot the Mayor. He holds the very short and fat pistol up in the air, we four ladies point our pistols high in the air. One, two, three, BANG!
Is it loud! I see Sharon's and Chantelle's surprised faces in the crowd. All the other members fire their pistols in the air and everything disappears in a cloud of smoke.
What a great day!