It was raining cats and dogs yesterday evening as we walked down our road, clutching out bag of 20p coins and our umbrella, to see the Wells Carnival go by.
This is what a float looks like, as it drives out of the town up New Street.
Africa girl here has already endured three-quarters of an hour of steady downpour, but she's still twirling.
This Spanish dancer, jiggling to thunderous music, at least has some cover. The float stopped opposite us; nearby, the rain-soaked teens from The Blue School were soon gyrating in time on the pavement.
These girls were from a care-home, I think. Is that a toilet I see, with knickers around the ankles? ... A fine example of rustic humour.
Pole dancing from the care-home cleaners.
What's this about? No idea.
Another brilliantly-lit float advancing through the rain.
This is Way-Out-West, a tableau.
The girl trapped in the shop is part of the tableau.
Welcome to the sleazier end of of the Wild-West!
Conditions were atrocious and it's no surprise that many of the dancers looked bored out of their minds. Can you imagine gyrating for an hour to the repeated tune of "We are the Diddymen"? Plus all the rehearsals? Plainly you would go out of your mind - that stuff dripping down their chins wasn't rain, it was drool.
