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A Nose At Bin's Fayre Times Festival 2014- Part 1

A nose small grey and twitching; morning, day two of the Seedling Productions set-up for Fayre Times 2014. The nose, which belonged to a local resident, led the way under the canvas wall into the Moon. I looked at it, my eyes still bleary, It; a grey squirrel, looked at me cocooned under cloaks and assortment of throws. I posed no real threat. Reaching to the ground it picked up a large discarded chunk of chocolate chip muffin and ate happily.

The achievements of the previous day filtered. The roof had gone up in record time due in the main to the record number of volunteers. Two determined souls or even a lone hero can erect a five-mast Moon. It is a slow, methodical process requiring concentration and resolve. Throw in five willing helpers, one to each mast and the whole thing transforms, as if by magic, into a five-minute formality. Thank you to the many over the year who have helped us raise it to its lofty heights and hail to those who will in the future. Remember the sooner we have the roof up, the sooner the beer is settling.

A second chunk of muffin grasped and eaten quickly and efficiently left me to muse further. It seemed preferable to getting up.

The extension had worked, a one mast to the front and centre of the emerging Crimson Moon Tavern. I had gone to sleep satisfied, I had awoke, to a squirrel, who after a last scout round was also satisfied; it left, leaving me to survey the piles of boxes, bags and bundles, flat packed tables and benches, fake barrels, candles, containers, tankards, lanterns and chandeliers that were now scattered around me in a chaotic order.

Morning had arrived in the Crimson Moon; opening time twelve hours and counting. Imerick remained a sleep, unaware of the cheek of our early morning visitor. The Blacksmiths building, like the Tavern, had gone up without any major hitches.

Saving you from the mundane detail of the hour that was to follow, I will just say that plans were laid down for the day whilst hot coffee was devoured and the banana found.

Lance, who manages the Royal Gunpowder Mills, our venue for this weekend, had issued stern warnings about leaving food around. But the banana was not simply left, and it was no fox or rutting deer that had entered the Moon whilst we slept. The banana, my intended breakfast had been taken from a bag, peeled and eaten. Imerick had never struck me as a midnight banana thief. I pondered that thought briefly as I began the transformation of a simple marquee into The Crimson Moon Medieval Themed Tavern. The Crimson Moon, our original themed tavern, of which I have been the barkeep of for eighteen months and The Veiled Moon, our newest tavern venture; haunt of Le Shot- barkeep and battle bard, now neatly fitted under one giant canvas roof. The moons together for the first time, nestled in the centre of our Seedling LARP village; at the 2nd Fayre Times Festival

The village, at this point, consisted of the shell of two Moons, one Blacksmiths and a potential shamanic cave. My mother had often said that I lived in a fantasy world; I now had eleven hours left to finish building it!

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