Inspired by a fellow writer, Amanda, and her recent foray into the world of ‘Theme Parks’, here’s a tale of Walter and Nimrod at Yorkshire’s very own answer to EuroDisney.
“Aye up, Nimrod. Thy’s looking reet champion, very smart lad.”
“Happen, Walter. And yersen too. Big day, today mind.”
They nodded a perfunctory greeting and looked each other up and down. Standing there sartorially elegant in matching tweed flat caps, high viz vests over white polo shirts the words ‘Official Greeter’ emblazoned across the chest, the whole ensemble completed with baggy brown corduroy trousers held up with braces. Nimrod was wearing his best Sunday boots and a muffler just in case it got chilly later. Both had ruddy faced complexions and a dew drop on the end of their noses,
“This celery-brity they got cutting the ribbon then. Amanda Holden off Britain’s Got Talent. What time’s she arriving?”
“Nah, it’s not that Amanda, Walter. We’ve got the one from ThirskWriteNow.”
“Oh, what’s she do then?”
“She’s a writer.”
“Oh, what’s she write then?”
“Oh, have I read any?”
“Well, how should I know, Walter. Get thissen down t’ library and ask for one.”
“Haven’t yer heard, Council’s scheduled it for closing.”
“Well, anyway, this ‘ere Amanda was a guest at Euro Disney last week and she’ll make a change from the usual local celebs.”
“So we’ll recognise her by the Mickey Mouse ear muffs then?”
“Wait and see, Walter, let’s just wait and see.”
Walter ockled and spat onto the grass wiping his mouth on his sleeve as the pair of them ambled across the freshly planted Bait-box picnic area and past the Giant Yorkshire Pudding ride. The flags fluttered in the breeze and the sun shone out of a bright blue sky glinting on the burnt black rims of the Pudding shaped gondolas. They headed on towards the front gates to take up position as ‘greeters’.
“How do, and welcome to our all new Theme Park. You are invited to step aboard the gravy flume and join us for a trip into deepest Yorkshire” was their strapline for the day.
“I wonder which southern marketing blue sky thinker of a guru thought that gobful up,” eh Nimrod. “At least they got the colour of the roses right.”
Being the opening day they would be handing out roses too. White ones. Nimrod pinned one to his dayglo vest and hoped it didn’t breach health and safety regulations.
“Very fetching,” said Walter. “I’ll ‘ave one for the missus.”
“You romantic bugga. I’m taking mine a complimentary slab of parkin and a bottle of Black Sheep.”
“Where did yer get that from?”
“Near the Wallace and Grommit scary cheese ride, opposite the Ilkley Moor bah tat tent.”
Further conversation between the two stopped, drowned out by the arrival of the Silverdale Brass Band and the pom-pom baton twirling Nidderdale Majorettes who took up station marching on the spot by the line of red ribbon draped across the row of turnstiles.
“This is it”, shouted Walter. “Time for the grand opening ceremony.”
He stretched up on tip toe. “I can’t see anyone that looks like Mickey Mouse!”