some candy floss and a couple of CDs selling for fifty pence each.
Not wishing to be thought a wet blanket, Callum allowed himself to be coerced into having a go at hoop-la and the coconut shy, managing to acquit himself reasonably well. But he drew the line at the dodgems, which had been set up on the school playground, and contented himself with standing on the perimeter watching the endless bumping and manoeuvring.
Josh had just climbed reluctantly out of his car when the loudspeaker announced it was time for people to make their way to the main street for the arrival of the motorbike cavalcade, and there was more pushing and shoving as everyone jostled for a good view.
The roar of the approaching bikes, loud in the expectant silence, preceded their arrival by some minutes, then, suddenly, they were there, a flashing rainbow of red, blue, black, silver and green, chrome gleaming, paintwork shining, as they sped through the street, did a sweeping turn at the end of the village, and roared back again, horns blaring as the crowd cheered wildly. Callum reckoned there must be about twenty in all. Beside him, Josh was jumping up and down with excitement, and even he, in his weakened state, was stirred by the spectacle.
The bikes wheeled again to ride down the street a third time, and when they reached the far end, turned into the field designated for the display. Immediately, the crowd began to stream in their wake, while the loudspeaker informed them there would be a fifteen-minute interval to allow the spectators to take their places.
‘Didn’t they look wicked?’ Josh demanded, as they were swept along.
‘They did indeed, Josh.’
‘Thanks ever so much for bringing me, Callum. It’s really cool!’
‘Glad you’re enjoying it. Have your ticket ready – we’ll need to show them as we go in.’
The field was large and rectangular, and plastic barriers had been set up to separate the audience from the performers. Callum noted that some of the older spectators had had the foresight to bring shooting sticks and folding chairs, and envied them. The only other option was the grass, which the melting frost had left damp and unwelcoming. He should have thought to bring a rug, he chastised himself.
Once everyone was in place, the display began. Only twelve of the original twenty riders took part, and the next half-hour was a breathtaking performance of stunts, the mere names of which – Circles, No-handed Wheelies, Hyper Spin, Standing Burn-Out, High Chair Stoppies – were enough to quicken the blood. The reactions of the crowd echoed Callum’s own response – silence, followed by gasps, and then wild cheering as each of the riders in turn seemed to take his life in his hands.
Prolonged cheers greeted the end of the display and the riders lined up to take a bow by bringing up their front wheels and lowering them again. The performers then rode out of the arena, leaving only the eight bikes that had not taken part, and that would be providing the promised pillion rides.
Another interval was announced, this one a lunch break of thirty minutes. Some families had brought picnics, but a barbecue was set up at one end of the field, and a fish and chip van at the other. After their recent barbecue, Callum and Josh settled for fish and chips, eating them, sprinkled with salt and vinegar, out of the paper bag, washed down with cans of coke. Callum had wondered if he could face food, but soon realized he was hungry, and as he ate, swallowing more pills with his coke, his headache at last began to lift.
By the time they’d finished, the queue for pillion rides was stretching down one side of the field, and they went to join it. Josh started chatting to the boy in front of him, and Callum exchanged a word or two with his father.
‘Quite a display, wasn’t it?’ the man commented.
‘Amazing,’ Callum agreed. ‘I hadn’t known what to expect, but they certainly gave value for money. I wouldn’t have thought half
Not wishing to be thought a wet blanket, Callum allowed himself to be coerced into having a go at hoop-la and the coconut shy, managing to acquit himself reasonably well. But he drew the line at the dodgems, which had been set up on the school playground, and contented himself with standing on the perimeter watching the endless bumping and manoeuvring.
Josh had just climbed reluctantly out of his car when the loudspeaker announced it was time for people to make their way to the main street for the arrival of the motorbike cavalcade, and there was more pushing and shoving as everyone jostled for a good view.
The roar of the approaching bikes, loud in the expectant silence, preceded their arrival by some minutes, then, suddenly, they were there, a flashing rainbow of red, blue, black, silver and green, chrome gleaming, paintwork shining, as they sped through the street, did a sweeping turn at the end of the village, and roared back again, horns blaring as the crowd cheered wildly. Callum reckoned there must be about twenty in all. Beside him, Josh was jumping up and down with excitement, and even he, in his weakened state, was stirred by the spectacle.
The bikes wheeled again to ride down the street a third time, and when they reached the far end, turned into the field designated for the display. Immediately, the crowd began to stream in their wake, while the loudspeaker informed them there would be a fifteen-minute interval to allow the spectators to take their places.
‘Didn’t they look wicked?’ Josh demanded, as they were swept along.
‘They did indeed, Josh.’
‘Thanks ever so much for bringing me, Callum. It’s really cool!’
‘Glad you’re enjoying it. Have your ticket ready – we’ll need to show them as we go in.’
The field was large and rectangular, and plastic barriers had been set up to separate the audience from the performers. Callum noted that some of the older spectators had had the foresight to bring shooting sticks and folding chairs, and envied them. The only other option was the grass, which the melting frost had left damp and unwelcoming. He should have thought to bring a rug, he chastised himself.
Once everyone was in place, the display began. Only twelve of the original twenty riders took part, and the next half-hour was a breathtaking performance of stunts, the mere names of which – Circles, No-handed Wheelies, Hyper Spin, Standing Burn-Out, High Chair Stoppies – were enough to quicken the blood. The reactions of the crowd echoed Callum’s own response – silence, followed by gasps, and then wild cheering as each of the riders in turn seemed to take his life in his hands.
Prolonged cheers greeted the end of the display and the riders lined up to take a bow by bringing up their front wheels and lowering them again. The performers then rode out of the arena, leaving only the eight bikes that had not taken part, and that would be providing the promised pillion rides.
Another interval was announced, this one a lunch break of thirty minutes. Some families had brought picnics, but a barbecue was set up at one end of the field, and a fish and chip van at the other. After their recent barbecue, Callum and Josh settled for fish and chips, eating them, sprinkled with salt and vinegar, out of the paper bag, washed down with cans of coke. Callum had wondered if he could face food, but soon realized he was hungry, and as he ate, swallowing more pills with his coke, his headache at last began to lift.
By the time they’d finished, the queue for pillion rides was stretching down one side of the field, and they went to join it. Josh started chatting to the boy in front of him, and Callum exchanged a word or two with his father.
‘Quite a display, wasn’t it?’ the man commented.
‘Amazing,’ Callum agreed. ‘I hadn’t known what to expect, but they certainly gave value for money. I wouldn’t have thought half
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