They suffered.
First the soup, followed by enormous helpings of congealing mutton with boiled vegetables; then – except for Albert – mountains of tepid rice pudding floating about in brown prune juice and studded with the prunes. Albert firmly refused this, saying:
‘It is my peculiar misfortune that from a child I have been unable to digest rice. Prunes I find so disintegrating that I seldom touch them.’
‘Traitor!’ whispered Jane, kicking him under the table.
‘No biscuits, thank you,’ said Mr Buggins; adding in a jocular voice, ‘I have always been told that one should rise from a meal ready to eat a penny bun.’
‘And are you ready to now?’ asked Albert doubtfully.
At last the nauseating meal drew to a close, and Walter (who luckily had some money with him) was obliged to put down twenty-eight shillings for his own, Sally’s, Jane’s and Albert’s share of the bill. This was felt by some to be the saddest moment of the day.
‘My spirit is broken,’ said Albert, as they walked downstairs again, ‘or I should certainly bargain with the innkeeper for that exquisite aspidistra. I covet it. But I have no energy left in me for such exertions. Mr Buggins, do tell me, I have always so much wanted to know, who was Auld Lang Syne?’
It was past three o’clock when they arrived at the enclosure where the games were taking place. Each member of the party had to pay five shillings to go in.
‘I knew it would be cheaper, in the end, to go to the Lido,’ said Walter bitterly.
There was an enormous crowd in the enclosure consisting of very large strong-looking people; the men mostly wore kilts and the women dull but serviceable tweeds.
Albert bought a programme which he shared with Jane. It was printed on thin pink paper and informed them that they were about to witness:
TUG OF WAR. VAULTING WITH POLE.
PIPING. DANCING.
THROWING THE HAMMER. TOSSING THE CABER.
FOOT RACES. CYCLE RACES. RELAY TEAM RACES.
PIPING COMPETITION.
Albert began explaining this to Jane as they were separated from the others:
‘“Tossing the caber”. Now that will be worth seeing; the caber is Scottish for a young bull and this ancient sport was introduced into Scotland by the survivors of the Spanish Armada, who settled in many of the islands. “Throwing the hammer”. Two men, I believe, are given six hammers each to throw and they see who can knock out the other one first. Dangerous, but what is that to these wild clansmen?’
‘How d’you know all this?’ asked Jane suspiciously.
‘My dear, of course I know all about it. Don’t be tiresome, but come and see for yourself.’
As they drew near to the arena their ears were greeted by a curious medley of sounds, the results of two brass bands playing different tunes, a band of bagpipes and a man walking drearily round alone, piping.
‘So like Le Pas d’Acier,’ murmured Albert, who had long entertained an unreasonable dislike for that ballet.
The arena, which was railed off from the crowd by ropes, was a large piece of flat ground like a football field. At one side of it there was a raised platform, on which sat several ancient men in kilts.
‘The chieftains,’ Albert explained, ‘of neighbouring clans. Although they look so friendly, each in reality is fingering his dirk; their hearts are black with age-old hatreds of each other. Meanwhile, their brave clansmen are striving with might and main to win the games. Let’s get up closer, I can’t see anything.’
The arena presented an extraordinary spectacle of apparently meaningless activity. People seemed to be doing things quite by themselves in every available corner of the field, while, encircling the whole, about seven skinny little men in shorts were quickly cycling round and round, followed by a crowd of even skinnier little men, running. They mostly looked like Whitechapel Jews. Some girls in Highland dress and long flowing hair were dancing a fling in one corner; in another an enormous giant appeared to be balancing a tree on his chest. The tug-of-war went on the whole time, neither side gaining an inch, and the vaulting also was incessant.
‘I am bitterly disappointed!’ cried Albert, when he had gazed for some time upon this medley of sports. ‘I had imagined that I was going to see savage Highlanders, in philabeg and bonnet, performing unheard-of feats. And what do I find? Men of more insignificant physique than myself cycling, running, jumping, and doing it rather worse than little boys at their private school sports. As for the noise, I cannot condemn it too heartily. I am suffering real physical pain and, also, I feel most dreadfully sick.’
‘Well, can you wonder?’ said Jane. ‘Personally, I’ve never felt so ill in my life before. What I’m wondering, though, is how we are to account for the picnic basket being found again.’
‘Oh, easily. We can say that some rough man brought it back.’
‘Yes, but that’s so unlikely; because how is the rough man to know whom it belongs to? Presumably, if there is an address inside, it will be that of the Prague home, as they say in films.’
‘We shall have to advertise for it. Oh! the boredom of these games! I’ve never known anything so oppressive. And as for those cyclistes they make me feel positively giddy, round and round like rats in a cage. Can’t we go home soon? There’s Alfred Sprott! Doesn’t he look awfully jolly? Let’s go and embarrass him.’
Albert gracefully approached Lord Alfred, who was standing with a pretty blonde young woman.
‘De-ar Alfred,’ he said, placing a hand on his shoulder, ‘why are you not playing in these delightful games? I remember so well the day you won all the sports at Eton.’
Lord Alfred turned scarlet, muttered something, and hurried away into the crowd.
‘Always
