The annual Smalltown celebration. Inexplicable to anyone who doesn't live here.
Basically, it's the happy seasonal opportunity to explore your alter ego via old newspapers and the embarrassing contents of your wardrobe. Some of us do that everyday. But the idea is, once a year, we all do it together. You make your dummy, sit it on your hedge, prop it on your door step, hang it from a tree, or dump it in the gutters, then all the neighbours walk round, point, and laugh.
It's not much, but it's all we've got.
Well, I was too busy this year, so I left the household entry to the kids. They came up with Life in the Jurassic Swamp. Shark took 200 pictures of her ichthyosaurus in a range of subtle poses and said the battery ran out when she tried to take pictures of anyone else's endeavour.
It was probably just as well. She observed how this year a great many stuffed heads were drinking heavily from gin bottles, there were three hangings, and one was shoved face first in a post box.
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