On with the Show
“Roll up, Roll up” he cried, waving his top hat as a crowd of curious villagers gathered around the green. “Come one, come all…” he bellowed, his gypsy eyes wild. His nose was as red as his Ringmaster’s coat. His hair as black as his boots, despite his advancing years. He was of average height but stout and thick set. The Ringmaster had spent his entire life travelling with the Circus. His father was a Ringmaster, as was his grandfather before that. Ordinarily Padfield village green was empty, save for a handful of boys playing football or the locals walking their dogs. Rarely does anything exciting happen. But today was different. Today the green was taken up by a large red and white circus tent, encircled by bowtop wagons and horse drawn carriages. Wooden trailers with bright coloured livery reading ‘Sequins Travelling Circus' stood by stocky, piebald horses with feathered feet. The air was filled with organ music, magic and mystique. “Step right up and see the amazing flying tra...