We’ve been ‘moving in’ to our new Bishops Castle home for a month now; more an ongoing state of flux than a settling in. There’s a lot to do and for months ahead, including work on roof and chimneys.  And so not a little frazzled, it was a relief to abandon the house and head for the streets.

Yesterday was Michaelmas Fair day. Time to find out what kind of a town we’d moved to. Time to mingle with our new community and connect. After all, it’s what humans most need beyond basic sustenance – connection. And when we think we don’t (because there’s just too much to do), it’s probably when we need it most.

Proceedings kicked off at noon with street stalls and roaming performers, bands on the Town Hall stage; classic cars lined up on the High Street – primped and prepped; fleet of steam traction engines huffing coaly steam in the cattle market, waiting on the 3 o’ clock grand parade.

But as you can see, it was a dull old day – autumnal mist and drizzle plus intermittent showers, so we dipped in and out of the afternoon’s programme, met some new neighbours, reprised earlier introductions (yes, I do remember your name), bought a very fine rudbeckia, caught the Shropshire Bedlams Morris Dancers, but then listened to Jane the town’s singing florist (much amplified) while installing the new plant in the front garden. It was the evening’s events we wanted to go to.

The Lantern Procession began at 7.45. We stood at the top of the town to welcome it, wondering why the street was so sparse in humanity. (Was everyone in the pub? It surely looked like it. The nearby Vaults inn was full to bursting). And then down the hill the drumming began. Then out of the gloaming, the sinuous twists and twirls of the Hung Gar Light Dragon. And strung out behind him, the town’s lantern-bearing children and all their friends and relations.

Now we understood. Most of Bishops Castle had been busy making lanterns in the Church Barn. They were all in the procession. What a throng.

And so as the dragon and Chinese drummers climbed the hill, so the Broseley Beats Samba Band struck up at the top. (I wish we’d discovered them when were living Broseley). A drumming play off then, the beats ripping from toe to crown. No choice. The body says, DANCE!

Then just when we thought the show over, the dragon came whiffling back round the Town Hall, heading off down the hill. Followed by the samba band. Followed by us and everyone else, the descent choreographed by the drummers, stopping at intervals to give a bravado performance.

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When we reached the King’s Head at the bottom of the town, we (somewhat astonished) came on a line-up of several steaming traction engines outside the pub door. What a hoot, and literally too. One owner was a tad whistle-happy. I trust he wasn’t driving home.

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So there you have it, a fine finale to the Michaelmas Fair. All good spirits restored. And a taste of good things to come? I should think so.

Lens-Artists: recharge    This week Egidio sets the theme as he hikes Colorado’s fabulous trails.