I might move to Barrow

Before I talk about Martin Platt (glance to your right to admire the cheesemaker himself), I must talk about Barrow carnival, to which the travelling act that I have become journeyed yesterday. Well it was great of course! I mean, my hair is now grey and I am using voice-recognition technology to type due to the shakes, but really it was really fab...

In all seriousness I had a brilliant time; it's been years since I went to a carnival and some of the costumes were truly awesome, so fantastic job done by all the participants. With not one but TWO Grease floats, plus an elephant, several Elvises (Elvi?) and a stripping Lady Gaga tribute, what more could you want? Me dressed as a fish waving from the roof of the CWT badger-mobile? That's next year my friend...

So onto fish - well the people of Barrow appear to be dichotomised into those who have fishers in the family, eat a wide range of fish species (I met an actual pollock-lover!), know a lot about local fish and who wouldn't touch pre-frozen fish with a barge-pole, and the remainder, with whom conversations went a bit like this:

Me: 'Do you like fish?'
Person: 'Er gross no I hate fish!'
Me: 'What about fish fingers?'
Person: 'Yeh I like them'

This group were often of the child or adolescent variety to be fair, and I can totally understand their dubious expressions when I pull out a piece of fresh coley (I must look very weird at this point - 'ta da! *stands holding fillet of fish, massive smile, even massiver hair...*) and tell them it would make brilliant fish fingers... but the truth is that I am (of course) right, and the wonderfully honest people that I spoke to probably represent a large proportion of Britain today, whereby we are grossed out by fresh fish but are happy to eat the fish mulch covered in breadcrumbs that some once (long ago) fresh fish has been turned into. I'm not saying I don't love a fish finger sandwich, thou shalt not lie after all, but to rate them over fresh (maybe line-caught, maybe local) fish is to put a Big Mac leering down over an organic British fillet steak.

I've had enough of this, I'm off into schools next year I tell ya. I'll be the Jamie Oliver equivalent of fish, just try and stop me! (someone please, try and stop me).


The comedy moment yesterday (in the 'not at all funny at the time' sense) was when, after an hour of meticulous set up of the stand, fanning out all the literature in beautiful arrangements and wrestling the display boards into place (only those with experience of marler-hayley boards will truly appreciate this battle), we were advised to relocate our entire stand from the courtyard at the back of the town hall to the street at the front. What? Leave the desolate courtyard, in which our marquee was perched all by itself looking weird and random, and move to the bustling street just in front? *accepting sigh*.
Once the majority at the stand had been dismantled and was waiting in the new spot (just about visible through the smoke of the Thai food stand's bbq), it was time to move the marquee itself. Fully erect and free of it's weights, the marquee became a bit like a giant sail in the freakishly strong winds in Barrow yesterday. So, with a man in a yellow jacket at each of its corners, the marquee paraded its way down the road from the old, lonely location to the new, smokey location, down part of the actual parade route, while my co-hosts Nikki and Gemma ran around after the escaping coloured plastic balls behind it. We were like a warm-up act for the carnival parade itself. To me! To you! To me! PIVOT!

Now onto Martin Platt, or as his friends (and people who realise that Coronation Street is not real life) call him, Sean Wilson. Well, is it wrong that I might have a bit of a celebrity crush?? I mean we chatted, I played it cool....
Sean: "What've you got there -  bacon sandwich?"
Me: "Yes" *takes bite of bacon sandwich*
Three days at Whitehaven and I never did get to try his cheese. I wonder if he's doing Egremont Crab Fair? I'll have to wear my best 'Wild Oceans' logo-ed polo shirt...