by Nathan Davey
His face was rosy and bright with excitement.
“Come on you two! The cheese race is going to start soon!!”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
If you are reading this book from outside of the United Kingdom, and you have no idea what The Cheese Race is, then allow me to explain.
The tradition involves many people, usually in silly costumes, chasing a wheel of cheese down a steep hill. We do it every year and it is always a big event. The event always takes place on Cooper Hill, which is an extremely steep hill. There’s always those people who go too fast and end up doing a flip, trip and roll. To be honest the only reason that people go to the cheese event, is too see how many injures there are. Before coming to Gloucester to see the event for myself, I saw it first on YouTube. Blimey, they can have some pretty nasty accidents going down that hill. Nonetheless, the both of us were excited to see the famous race.
The two of us got changed as quickly as we could. In the corridor we could see loads of people coming out of their rooms, most of them in humours costumes. I saw some men dressed as old women, a women dressed as a fireman, several men dressed as Lepricons and one man who was dressed as Dr. Frank-N-Furter from The Rocky Horror Picture Show. When me and Lizzie finally came out, we had several people comment on our “excellent Chav costumes”
We went down the stairs where Sir Philip stood holding the door wide open for everyone. Joining the crowd of people who were on their way out, we noticed that the funny old man was once again doing one of his salutes. Soon we were outside in the Village Street, where crowd of people were all dressed up and heading for Cooper’s Hill.
They were being led out of the village and towards a gravel path, by a huge brass band. The members of the band were all dressed in purple uniforms. The band was playing It’s a long way to Tipperary, it seemed that everyone in the village knew the song and were singing along. I and Lizzie had learnt the words as part of our History lessons, so we sang along to.
Off we went down the road, singing along in a parade of eccentric and wonderful crazies. We saw some people dressed in sweater vests with handkerchiefs on their head, Wellington boots and fake toothbrush moustaches to look like Mr Gumby from Monty Python’s Flying Circus. We also saw some Farmers walking by, singing loudly and drinking from tankards of cider. If you asked me to paint a picture in which describes Britain in one image, it would quite simply be this parade marching through the countryside.
It wasn’t soon before there was a tremendous cheer from everyone in the crowd, the moment that the huge hill came into view. At the very top were some people who had been there all morning, who waved down to us as they came along. There were some windbreaks set up on both sides of the hill, to divide the people running down from the audience. There were also some camera crews from various broadcasters ready to document the event. At the top of the hill was a fairly plump looking farmer who, in his hands, held the huge wheel of cheese. The crowd entered the field through an opened wooden gate.
The animals that usually grazed on this field were moved into the fields next to Cooper Hill. The animals looked over from their fields at Copper Hill, all in utter confusion to what was going on.
Me and Lizzie went into the field and joined the thickening audience who were gathered behind the windbreakers. Some people dressed in their wonderfully daft costumes were already beginning to take their positions at the top of the hill. Many of them were stretching and limbering up, ready for the task ahead. Lots of people in the crowd were chanting like they were at a football match, while others shouted words of encouragement to people they were supporting.
The brass band kept on playing various jolly tunes: Pack up your Troubles, Don’t Dilly, My Old Man’s a Dustman and Belgium put the Kibosh on the Kaiser. Everyone sang along and clapped along to the beat. There was not one face in that crowd that wasn’t smiling. It was a gloriously warm and sunny day in the English countryside.
The man holding the cheese came to the centre of the line of people at the top of the hill. He placed the cheese in the middle and, after a moments pause for dramatic effect, let it roll.
Off they went down the hill after that wheel of cheese. The crowd began to shout and cheer. Men wearing flat caps ripped them off of their heads and whirled them around in the air like a lasso. There were lots of shouts of: “Come on” and “Go on my son”. People were flipping, slipping, sliding, rolling, falling, sprinting and cart wheeling and acting like they were having a ball. It was hilarious!
The event, I must say, is pointless. Even when something is pointless, doesn’t necessarily mean that it isn’t fun. In fact, the more ridiculous and pointless the event the funnier it is. I like to compare the Cheese Race to Britain’s other silly yet famous event, the Flying Competition. This is where people make “flying machines”, run with them off a seaside peer and see how far they will travel until it plummets into the sea. Once again it’s utterly pointless, but a bloody good laugh.
You may not believe, but me and Lizzie even had a go. We waited until all of the pre-planned runners had gone down. The pre-planned runners were usually local celebrities or people running for charity. One that I noticed was a man in a green bikini that was raising money for a children’s hospital. After they went down the hill, it was then the turn of open runners. This was the round where anybody in the audience could join in. We didn’t know if we’d ever come back here again, so of course we took the opportunity and went up that hill.
We made our way up and stood with the others. I saw a bloke in a green morphsuit, some farmers, a man dressed as a nun and a couple of boys and girls around our age. Looking down we suddenly realised how steep this hill was. The road below looked like a tiny grass snake in the distance, curling and winding its way across the countryside. I felt the adrenaline run through me as I looked out across the beautiful British countryside.
A bizarre sense of enlightenment came over me. I felt refreshed and anew. I could see the sun streaking through the clouds, birds flying ahead and world full of breath-taking beauty. This, I thought, is what Britain is all about. I smiled at this bizarrely surreal moment that I didn’t expect to happen. It has become the one thing that has kept me going ever since. It is still the memory that I always recall in times of difficulty. When the world seems full of darkness and depression, I look back to that brief moment where I realised what it meant to be alive. I realised that this world is ours. This stunning piece of natural artwork is the place in which we inhabit. We reshape this world to our liking. As long as that countryside is still there, as long as natural beauty will still shine through an age of prospering technology, then I’ll always believe that light will always pierce through the darkness. That image of the sunlight streaming down onto the landscape, the edges of the clouds lined with pink, the birds soaring past and the way it made me feel inside will never leave my memory. The moment in which I saw the clouds must have only lasted for a second, but it felt like a lifetime.
“On your marks!” shouted the man holding the cheese in its place, “Get set and GO!”
The wheel of cheese was released. I was snapped out of that epiphany and ran down the hill after the cheese. I saw people flipping over dips in the ground all around me. The cheering crowd was nothing more then a blur as I ran past them as fast as I could. Lizzie was running next to me and was giggling like someone who had inhaled a little bit too much laughing gas. I was laughing as well. It was a very comical experience. The speed that the steepness of that hill can make you go, can easily make you light headed. When you’re light headed, anything is funny.
We reached the bottom before we realised it. There were a pile of people at the bottom where they all fell over. Both me and Lizzie tripped over these people and fell on top of them, adding to the now increasing mountain of fallen runners. I have not laughed so much before then and not since. I could see Lizzie’s face going red with laugher. I could feel my face getting hotter as I struggled to stop laughing. Very soon everyone who had started at the t
op of this hill, were now on top of this pile right at the bottom. The crowd were cheering and laughing at the humorous sight of all these people, who were unable to get up because they were laughing so much. A new and unexpected game had just begun, “try to get back up from the ground”.
People would begin to rise up into a standing position, only for another fit of laughter to come and cause them to double over and eventually fall onto the ground again. The crowd began to cheer on this new game, once again shouting words of encouragement. Mud was swirling around the ground which made people slip and fall over again. I have no idea how long I and Lizzie were there for, but it felt like forever. Eventually a round, rosy faced farmer took both of our hands and, with one massive pull upwards, brought us to our feet.
The crowd gave out a loud: “Way!” as the farmer helped us up. The farmer, who still had a tight grip on our hands, brought up our arms like at the end of a wrestling match. The crowd laughed heartily and did the three of us. I can’t remember a part of that day in which we weren’t all laughing.
After we’d all finished on the hill, we headed back towards the town. In a field of someone’s farm, a pavilion was set up. There were several gazebos and with tables with tea, scones and cupcakes inside of them. Bunting was hung in-between the gazebos and in-between the barns. It was like a proper old school village fate. Even the farm animals were decorated in ribbons and bows for the occasion.
Everyone filed into the field and spread themselves across the entire area. Cups of tea was brewed, scones were served with butter and jam, slices of fruit cake was passed around and many chocolate biscuits found themselves scoffed up in minutes. Music was bellowing at top volume from the main pavilion. It was playing all of those corny, silly and yet uplifting party tracks. A sheepdog from the farm was allowed to roam around the field, where he found many people who were willing to feed him on scones and biscuits. There were even some tractor rides for little ones going on at the back.
We saw Sir Phillip coming towards us across the field. We could see that he was holding two plates in his hands. When he came closer we discovered that the two plates had fully breakfasts on them. He finally arrived in front of us and passed us the plates with some cutlery.
“Here are the breakfasts you wanted” he said, “sorry they’re a bit late. Are you staying here tonight as well?”
I and Lizzie looked at each other. We made the decision just by the expression on our faces and the look in each others eyes. We turned to face Sir Phillip again.
“I don’t think so” I said, “We’d best be travelling on, after we’ve finished these of course. Thank you so much for your hospitality. Do you want us to pay you now?”
“I could certainly pay for a few more scones, what?” said the old man grinning, “Yes, you can pay me now if you like”
I put my hand in my tracksuit pocket and took out the envelope of money. From the wad of cash inside I took out the £20 required and gave it to Sir Phillip. Once he had the money and stashed it away, he stood to attention and gave us a salute. Both me and Lizzie also stood to attention and returned the salute.
“Good luck” he said, “where ever you decide to go”
“Thank you” I said,
“No, thank you” said Sir Phillip, “now I can have one of Mrs Geeson’s extraordinarily heavenly cakes. Cheerio!”
The funny old man then made his way across the field, towards a table of cakes which was run by a pretty woman and her two daughters.
The decision to leave wasn’t because we weren’t enjoying the party, because we were. We would have loved to have stayed and danced to a couple of cheesy songs. The thing was that there was no one here who needed any help. Everyone was in high spirits and was enjoying the day. There was nothing here for us to do in the way of assistance, so we knew that after we had our breakfasts we would leave and get back on the road again.
We found some white, plastic garden chairs on the edge of the field under some bunting. We sat down and began to eat the delicious breakfast. Sitting next to us was a young lad was looked maybe a couple of years older then us. He looked very well off as he wore the height of fashion and had on a very expensive looking green gilet. He was talking in a very posh accent down his expensive phone to someone on the other end.
“So the Rolls had broken down?” he said, “well that’s a bit of a blow isn’t it. Dear, oh dear. Well, how am I going to get home now? I told you to stay here with me, not go off somewhere else so you can make a burger king. So, what? I’m stranded here in “cider land” while missing out on Daddy’s clay pigeon shooting party. I mean really. What ever shall I do now?”
“Do you want a lift mate?” I asked,
“What?” said the young man,
“Do you want a lift?” I repeated, “We’ve got a Moped with a sidecar, you can ride in that if you want”
“Sidecar?” said the young man, he was grinning from ear to ear and was looking excited as he drew his attention back to the phone, “No need Richard, I’ve got a lift. Some charming fellow has just offered me a ride in his motorcycle’s sidecar . . . I know! I know! See you in a little while, bye”
“Where do you want to go?” I asked,
“I live with my Father at Grumsby Manor in Aylesbury, Buckinghamshire” said the young man proudly, “it takes no longer then an hour and forty minutes, but we can stop off at some service stations I’m sure. By the way, my name is Harry Grumsby, nice to meet you two”
Harry put out a friendly hand to us, which we both shook in turn. Us two were getting pretty used to shaking people’s hands, since we were now meeting up with so many new people. This young man seemed nice enough. Then again Joe Pepper seemed very nice to us, so either way we were ready for any sort of unexpected surprises. From Harry’s background we were expecting some sort of classed based discrimination, we didn’t get any. In fact, Harry seemed to be a very open minded and non judgemental person, which is exactly the kind of people we loved to come across.
Me and Lizzie finished up our breakfasts and placed the empty places on a garden table just on the side. We had everything we needed, which included our money and the keys for the Moped. Nonetheless, we still wanted to go back to the Bed and Breakfast to sign out, just good manners init? That’s what we did. Me and Lizzie signed out at the Bed and Breakfast while Harry waited outside, admiring the bike.
“Lovely machine!” he said to us when we came back out, “I’m not really sure that the sidecar matches though. What does it matter? I’m still going to ride in a sidecar! Ha-ha! Jolly good fun!”
“Hop straight in mate” I said, “make yourself comfortable”
“With pleasure!” he said, “I’m going to have to put this on my blog!”
Harry climbed into the sidecar. He fastened himself in with the make shift safety belts made of rope that we used in Edinburgh. He wriggled his behind in the seat to make himself comfortable and looked eager to get going. We took our helmets from the boot and I offered mine to Harry. He declined the offer with a regal shake of his hand.
“This hair takes hours to perfect” he explained, “don’t want it ruined, do we? Besides, I trust you mister . . .”
“Connor” I answered, “Aaron Connor, and this is Lizzie”
“Hello dear!” said Harry to Lizzie, “You are looking most ravishing, I must say!”
“Thank you Harry” she replied, “You don’t look too bad yourself”
“Splendid” said Harry, “Mr Connor, are we about ready to depart?”
“I think we are” I answered, “Are you?”
“Most defiantly!” exclaimed Harry, “Let’s hit the road, hey?”
It was Lizzie’s turn to drive so she climbed up onto the Moped first. She was fastening her helmet straps as I climbed on behind her. She kicked the engine into life with a fantastic purr. Harry clapped his hands and was now wildly excited. It must be lovely to get as excited about something like this, as ordinary and mundane as a Moped. Nonetheless, Harry’s was flushed and
smiling with the thrill that being in the bike’s sidecar was giving him.
“Tally-Ho, I say!” he cried over the noise of the engine, “Tally-Bally-Ho!”
Lizzie gave the young man what he wanted and we were soon zooming out of the village and travelling across the countryside. Harry was yelling and whooping all the way. I’ve never seen someone act the way he does. I wish I could act like that, maybe then I wouldn’t be so bloody cynical.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
An hour and a half into the trip we stopped off at a roadside service station. This one was a lot smaller then the one we were in when we met Purple Skull. It was a restaurant, news agents, hotel foyer and book shop all combined into one smallish room. It was cramped with all of the people in the place, but that didn’t matter as a table was cleared for us the moment we went into the restaurant. What I and Lizzie didn’t know was that the Grumsby Family was very known and highly respected. We didn’t even have to pay for our meal. We instantly knew that assisting Harry would be a very good thing to do.
After we had something to eat, we went outside and took the Moped to the petrol station which stood on the other side of the car park. We found a pump and filled up the Moped with petrol. We got £20 worth of petrol, which we thought was plenty and would last us a fair while. Even though Harry wanted to pay, I insisted that I and Lizzie would pay for it as Harry was our guest. We paid at the pump and then rode off back onto the main road.
Very soon we were beginning to come into Aylesbury. From this point onwards, Harry was giving us directions on how to get to the Manor. We followed his commands as if he were a Sat Nav. He led us off the main road and down some country lanes. We passed a girl trotting along the road on a horse, with her riding teacher giving her pointers from her horse which was trotting behind her. We slowed down the Moped as we came alongside them, as to not frighten them. That was our first sign that we were no longer in the district of the farmers. We were now travelling through the upper class countryside. Harry kept giving us more directions until, finally, we turned a corner and could see Grumsby Manor in the near distance.
