мари420

13.08.2021 21:40 •  Английский язык

Пересказ текста We moved to the countryside to enjoy life at a slower pace, but from the moment Susan took up pottery my quiet life seemed to drift out of control. Suddenly, the house was full of empty vases and unused dishes, each one requiring my seal of approval before being put in place on newly-built shelves. Although I appreciated the fact that my wife had discovered a hidden talent, it was becoming increasingly obvious that we had to find some use for her creations before we ran out of space completely. Susan's brightly coloured ceramic plates and dishes made ideal gifts, but birthdays and special occasions didnt come around often enough to save us, so I was delighted when she suggested renting a stall at a local craft fair.

We live a few miles from the village of Downton, near Salisbury in Wiltshire. It's a lovely, quiet village on the River Avon that's full of strange customs and old traditions, such as the Cuckoo Fair at the beginning of spring. Since the 16th century, people have been coming from miles around to marvel at this medieval festival. These days, around 20,000 people enjoy live entertainment from brass bands, street performers and Morris dancers. For those of us who were brought up in the city it seems like a lot of quaint countryside fun, but the fair also has about 250 stalls selling handmade crafts and local produce, and that's why Susan and I set off for Downton in the early hours of the morning.

Even at 6 am, Downton was a hive of activity. As the sun crept across the village, our fellow stall holders were laying out their wares on stalls that lined Downton's main street just as they'd done hundreds of years ago. However, this was an entirely new experience for Susan and she was strangely silent as she arranged and rearranged her display. For Susan, this was far more than an opportunity to make some money from surplus handicrafts. She was like an artist preparing for her first public exhibition and her critics would have to show their approval by parting with some cash if the day was going to end well.

As a crowd slowly formed, the homemade honey on the stall next to ours seemed to be selling well. The old couple who'd produced this tempting treat offered Susan a supportive smile, but by mid-morning we were still waiting to make our first sale.

A few potential customers hesitantly asked about the prices, but most were too distracted by the hustle and bustle to make a purchase. I confess that my own attention had started to wander when I suddenly heard the wild, enthusiastic shrieks of a delighted American tourist. I turned to find a group of elderly ladies gazing at Susan's display as though they had just discovered buried treasure. They were generous in their praise and eager to hand over their money for as many bargains as they could carry. The attention drew in yet more customers and we were soon struggling to cope.

By the early afternoon, we had nothing left to sell and we were finally free to explore the rest of the Cuckoo Fair. The children dancing around the Maypole looked adorable as they weaved around each other in their bright costumes. Then we followed a street procession to the crowning of the Cuckoo Princess. Although I cant say either of us fully understood the significance of this ancient ceremony, we both applauded. We wanted to prolong the fun, but it was time to go. As I drove home with my own cuckoo princess asleep in the passenger seat, I wondered whether this would be a regular feature of our quiet country life. For all the satisfaction the day had brought, I certainly hoped so.