It brought tears to my eyes...

... but I have no idea why.

This weekend is Saltash regatta, which includes a full programme of entertainment on the waterside, continental market, etc, etc, as well as the gig racing and other waterbased activities. There was a torrential downpour in the morning but it didn't last long enough to put a dampener on the festivities at all, so we went down for a look in the afternoon. It was very busy, with many people either watching the racing or enjoying the entertainment.

I was wandering around the stalls with Ty peacefully on his lead beside me when I became aware that he was quite insistently wanting to move in the opposite direction. Away from the percussion band which had just started up. I suppose it did sound a bit like gunfire, or fireworks, and he definitely didn't like it. I made him walk past it, being quietly encouraging, because it's good for his soul, but then took him down to the old quay and left him sitting with Ron in the comparative quiet by Solan Goose so that I could go back and look round at leisure.

Back past the folk duo, the shire horses, the music group on the green, Wreckers Morris under the bridges, a Frenchman from Plougastel (our twin town) giving away strawberries, stalls selling all kinds of food, drink, strange clothing and even stranger jewellery, herbal remedies and shiatsu massage...

Under the bridge I noticed, with quiet delight, that Crooked Tempo, Ty's nightmare drummers, were creating a substantial stone-and-metal echo. Their music was strong, rhythmic, complicated, joyous - and when I turned the corner and could actually see them, energetic, enthusiastic, smiling, dressed in turquoise, my eyes filled with tears and I had to look away. Why? No idea, but I will remember their performance.