Star Wars Day 2015

Up bright and early somewhere after 9 because today is my third fairground in a row.
St Marys' church is the one with the tall spire in my main header picture at the top and I've been on its roof twice. But every May Day they have a fairground with tweetling rides and dancers and horses and stalls and model trains and Hedwig the owl and a beer tent and the laser-soldiering game and lots of burger stalls and bouncy castles.
Of course there is the constant underlying threat of being targeted by roving shaman-priests hoping to get you to join the Holy Monastic Cult of Poverty and Servitude, but I have been issued with the Shield of Hilarious Disbelief.
In other news, Bud has been doing sterling work for bowel regularity by eating Kellogg's all-bran breakfast cereal for months to get enough box-coupons to win a personalised spoon. One wonders whether we could have saved enough money on bran, toilet roll and air freshener to buy a new spoon. Delivery is within 90 days, let's see just how long it takes, and how I'm supposed to eat my coco pops without that dreaded spoon.
At noon-ish, we sauntered off in a westerly direction and attained St Marys' churchyard when the crowds and clouds of hemp smoke were thick. We've done the event at least 4 times now so knew the drill and discovered that our normal mustering-zone was empty. So we did the tour of the church grounds and found several stalls we wanted to go back to.
Goldman didn't have any Lego or brass shell cases or funny foreign coins this time but ToyStall-near-the-classic-vintage-cars had some packets of Lego for me and Crash-my-crockery was there again as were the horses and the Morris dancers arena and the lost-children-for-sale tent and the unreasonable curry stall although Model Railways were missing and I met a Year 3 and the head honcho of the district scouts.
The JBs arrived so we set up the Base Camp and did the standard hook-a-duck game which is basically where we store crap plastic Chinese-made weapons for 364 days until we are ready to use them. Over the road is our Druidic Holy Combat Sector where we play Frantic-attack in the bushes until death do us part which was when Ben and Erin joined us and they got guns from the hook-a-duck ordnance store and we all kicked poo out of each other until the magic £5 notes were produced for Laser-Soldiering.

Not kidding, this is our annual outing, the highlight of our season in a year full of sparkly-diamond black ops (not black tie) missions. The adults provided us with £5 notes and the idea was to have Puddlers against the world but there weren't enough world to go round and so it was every man for himself, including Erin who is an Honorary Man.
10 minutes later, everyone was dead. This did not stop us, of course, and we did the Jungle Fever Bus of Madness and more sniping and commando-ing on Druid Field until we were forced into a retreat to the Rose In June Pub by the defunct prison and we battled in the back garden until we'd run out of personnel and we walked home in the drizzle having worked ourselves to health. If only we could do this every week. Hmmm.