The Clock chimed twelve o’clock and it’s bells rang out loudly, sounding similar to the famous chimes of Big Ben.
The boats on the river were off. It was the annual Biggleton river race.
Boats of all kinds took part in the race, from one man in his rowboat to a Viking- like crew paddling with multiple oars, skimming over the water like a centipede.
There was even an old paddle steamer on which sat the referee of the race, drinking a chilled glass of Pimms.
The aim of the race was to go from the railway bridge through town to the great suspension bridge in the north, by the rocky crags.
Two helicopters hovered overhead trying to film the race for the local news.
The crowds on the main bridge were becoming unruly and rapidly losing control. In the mad melee, someone fell in, their cries for help drowned out amongst the screaming crowds and all the excitement. Luckily someone dived in and rescued them just before the paddle steamer came along.
It was a typical crazy day in Biggleton. Tomorrow was the wet wellie throwing competition, and the day after that the naked clog dancing.
Never a dull moment.
This story was written for the Imagination Plantation challenge, created, I believe by Nova of Mynamaste365.
I was nominated by the lovely Beckie of Beckies Mental Mess:
Here are the Rules:
4 Simple Rules:
- Write me a short paragraph about what’s happening in this image.
- Create a pingback to this image.
- Tag three bloggers.
Teresa, The Haunted Wordsmith:
Kristian of Life Lessons Around the Dinner Table:
Li of Tao Talk.