sweating man in a dirty singlet who stood at the foot of the tower.
After all these years, some of my impressions of the fair are rather blurred, like the reflections of brilliant lights on wet pavements while the rain is still pouring down. I remember that, although it was not yet dark when we arrived, the naked naphtha flares which lit up the scene were already hissing and windblown. I remember the jostling, shoving, good-humoured crowds, the gaily-painted swing-boats, and the raucous, heady, intoxicating music blaring from the roundabouts.
I remember that I nearly (but not quite) ringed a most desirable box of chocolates at the hoop-la stall and that Kenneth tried his luck with an airgun but failed to hit one of the ping-pong balls which were dancing up and down on jets of water, and I remember arguing with him as to whether or not you got a longer ride on the roundabout by taking one of the outside horses rather than one nearer the centre where the machinery and the music were.
'It stands to reason,' he said. 'It's a case of concentric circles. The outside one has the longest perimeter.'
'But it travels slower,' I said, 'so the actual length of the ride is the same.'
We tried a swing-boat with Uncle Arthur at one end and the two of us at the other. I did not like this very much because, as the boat swung higher, it seemed quite possible that at a certain point we could go clean over the top and loop the loop, so I was relieved when our time was up and the man in charge grounded us with a long wooden plank which jarred the boat uncomfortably and alarmingly but soon brought us to a standstill.
Uncle Arthur bought us bullseyes, brandy snaps and lardy-cakes and we drank so-called lemonade. Later on we had sausage rolls and ice cream. (Ice cream was a rare treat in those days and we seldom bought it for ourselves because it disappeared so quickly.) Soon after this, a clock on St Swithin's church struck ten and Uncle Arthur decided that it was time to think about going home.
We pleaded that there were several alleyways among the stalls which, so far, we had not explored and Kenneth (always much more generous and thoughtful than myself) said that he wanted to buy a present for Aunt Kirstie but had not seen anything he fancied she would like.
In one of the quieter by-ways there were stalls selling fancy goods such as sachets of lavender, garish pincushions covered in bead-work, boxes ornamented with sea-shells, fancy handkerchiefs and brightly-coloured hair-ribbons. The prices seemed high, so Kenneth and I (rather grudgingly on my part, I must admit) went shares in a pale-blue handkerchief which had a knot of pink flowers in one corner surrounding the letter K. Uncle Arthur put it in his pocket so that we should not lose it and a moment or so later we found ourselves on the edge of the fairground opposite a large marquee.
Behind it a narrow thoroughfare had been left so that traffic could still flow. On the other side of the thoroughfare was a pavement for foot-passengers and abutting on to this stood one of the several pubs which supplied the farmers and their men with food and beer on market days.
Outside the marquee a large board lit by two swinging lanterns on iron uprights advertised that there was a prize of five pounds for anyone who could wrestle successfully for five minutes against Tiger-Cat Bellamy Smith using catch-as-catch-can, Cornish style, Westmorland style, Japanese or lumberjack style, no holds barred, admission sixpence. Exhibition bouts would take place between challengers' efforts, it stated. It concluded,
Beside the board, vociferating at the top of his lungs, stood a fat man in a tight-fitting evening suit which had seen better days. For the benefit, apparently of those who could not read, he was declaiming the information printed on the board and emphasising the importance of the prize.
As we paused to watch and listen, a group of young men, noisy and somewhat drunk, came out of the public house and, after some bucolic argument punctuated by laughter and a few slurred oaths, they paid their sixpences and entered the marquee.
'Well now,' said Uncle Arthur, 'time we looked for that bus.' But he seemed in no hurry to move on, and while we waited and Kenneth squeezed my arm hopefully, several other customers went in to see the show. The busker outside redoubled his efforts and added to his repertoire.
'Roll up! Roll up! Only a few seats left. Roll up! Here's your chance! Five lovely thick uns to the winner. Roll up, gen'lemen sportsmen.' Then his eye picked us out although we stood in the gloom. 'Ladies and children half price,' he bellowed. 'Don't miss an educational treat! See the greatest wrestler on earth! Try your luck for five beautiful nicker! Come on! Roll up! Roll up! Next exhibition bout in a coupla minutes from
Two or three more men went in. I could tell that Kenneth was in agony lest all the seats should be gone before Uncle Arthur had made up his obviously vacillating mind.
'Couldn't we just pop in, Uncle?' he said at last. 'It's only threepence for children and I've got that left.
'Oh, it's not for children,' said Uncle Arthur, but he still lingered.
'The man said it was educational, and it's only wrestling. It's not as though they're going to knock each other out,' I said.
'Wrestling's worse nor boxing,' said Uncle Arthur. 'Oh, well, all right, just for a few minutes, then.' Kenneth darted for the tent-flap, his threepence already in his hand, and Uncle Arthur and I followed. The marquee was full of noise, tobacco smoke and the smell of sweaty, beery men. There were still a number of unoccupied backless wooden benches. We sat down, Kenneth in the gangway seat, myself next to him and Uncle Arthur between me and a sleazy drunk who was singing sadly to himself and hiccupping now and then.
Instead of the usual ring, there was a stage, a small, square platform covered with coarse green matting. Some wooden steps led up to this from the auditorium. The fat man mounted these and announced in a voice gone husky from his previous open-air efforts:
'Presentin' a three-round, catch-as-catch-can exhibition contest between, on my right, Jacques Collins, on my left, Tiger-Cat Bellamy Smith. Gen'lemen will kindly stop smokin' while this important exhibition bout is in progress.'
No notice whatever was taken of this suggestion. He retired and the two wrestlers rose from the knees of their seconds, who had been kneeling on one knee and accommodating their principals on the other thigh.
The Tiger-Cat was lean and had black hair, long legs and thin, muscular arms. He was dressed in a black, long-sleeved vest and black tights. His opponent was shorter and more thick-set, with a bulging bull-neck and an eyebrow-length fringe of red hair. He wore sky-blue breeches which fastened under the knee; his chest, except for
