Once upon a time there were two umbellifers. There was a short, broader one called Henry, occasionally called Hooray Henry by his friends (not to be confused with confusing Hooray Harry , slave to hari Meghan) and slim Umbellifer called Margaret.
Tubby umbellifer said “ I know, why don’t we go for a gander at the Goose Fair in Nottingham? It’s on in the first week of October unless there is a pandemic on. So it hasn’t been cancelled many times since it started in 1284. It’s now grown into one of the biggest funfairs in the world” he said excitedly thinking of all the bright lights and amusements. “We’ll have a laugh!” And Henry and Margaret skipped off to the bus station, hand in hand.
It was already growing dark as the bus pulled in near the Goose Fair. The crowds were enormous, bustling and jostling against each other as they packed into the Forest Recreation Ground. There was no social distancing and Henry was concerned for his twiggy bits that stuck out, fearful that they might get snapped off. Margaret didn’t have a care in the world. She took care of her stick out bits lavishing them in soft and pure argan oil made from goat droppings, each night. Slowly the pair migrated towards the centre of the fair, pointing out different sights and amusements to each other as they were moved along in the throng. It was hard to make progress as just as many people were pushing their way through in the opposite direction towards them. It was becoming a bit of a crush, a little bit uncomfortable but Margaret was pulling Henry through behind her. Suddenly there was a tall freaky geek with an afro hairdo in school blazer, skinny jeans, with white socks visible above black pumps, coming with a group of giggling young girls straight at them. They should have passed to one side but Margaret bullishly maintained her course right through the middle of the group who were each carrying a huge fluff of bright, disgustingly sticky pink candy floss. Margaret made it through and yanked on Henry’s twig so that he cannoned towards the group, spikey head first. He collided squarely with the freak’s blob of candy floss. Urgh what a mess. It completely covered his head in the pink goo and whilst they tried to remove it, there was no chance they could clean it all off him. Of course Margaret thought it hilarious, especially when some flies . eager for a feast, became glued to him. Henry was not amused, but Margaret eventually spotted a quieter area and pulled him aside to tidy him up as best she could. Being October his sticky bits were wilted and brittle and in removing the pink mess she unwittingly broke off even more limbs leaving him feeling decidedly naked and disarmed. They were sat opposite each other when he looked at her and said, “ Do you mind, if we just go home? I’m in such a sticky mess I just want to get clean”. She understood and once again she took his sticky thing and headed off once more into the throng. Now it was dark, the lights were amazing. Spectacular! There were rides and attractions everywhere and people screaming on the thrilling rides whirling over their heads. Henry had set his heart on having a great evening with Margaret and now it was ruined. The Goose Fair only comes once a year and lasts just a few days. he really didn’t want to miss this opportunity. Just then his eyes were drawn to a large black caravan, amazing graphics and decorations adorning its exterior. Tattooist! He felt himself pulling back from Margaret as he stopped in her tracks. She caught his glance towards towards the black caravan. “No!” she shouted over the noise of the crowd. But he was undeterred. “I’ve always wanted one, just a small one, something meaningful!”. She looked at him, now serious, “Don’t be silly” she said , conscious of his feelings. “ You would regret it!”
“No, I wont!” said Henry. “Want one!” She saw the look in his eyes, almost pleading with her, and her heart melted a little. She sighed and after a moment said, “OK, if it’s what you really want, but I worry you will regret it” as she led him to the tattooist’s mobile parlour. The tattoo artist looked a sensible type, almost clean, and friendly, not some bearlike heathen. Henry explained to Peter what he wanted, across his back, between his shoulder blades, Three shortish words. “Live without regrets”. A powerful and meaningful message.
Margaret waited very patiently for almost an hour as Henry lay on the table. Eventually he emerged, a big grin on his face, and she was pleased to see him looking happier. “Come on” she said,”Let me see it, then”. Gingerly he unbuttoned his shirt and carefully eased it back off his shoulders, turning into the light so that she could see it. “Oh FFS! “ she exclaimed., horrified . Etched into his flesh it said, “ LIVE WITHOUT REGETS “.
Next year the two umbellifers decided to stay near the pond. It had been a lovely sunny summer but they were rather despondent and down. Fortunately all of Henry’s sticky bits had regrown. But he was surprised, when out of the blue she said , “I know, why don’t we have a party? Today! It’s Wednesday. Let’s make it Happy Umbellifer Wednesday!! And with that she started wobbling and jigging a bit like she was the Dancing Queen. However Henry decided it was probably the wind.
