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“Are you going to Strawberry Fair?” I sang tunelessly to The Hubster yesterday.

“If I must,” he grumped, “but they don’t sell strawberries.”

When we got there, around 11.30 a.m. via a trip to Tesco for Irn Bru for The Hubster and Jamaican Ginger Beer, which appears to come in handy small bottles now, for so fewer pennies than other pop, the first thing we noticed when we got onto the common proper were loads and loads of food stalls. As we meandered, they became more interspersed with clothes stalls selling your usual tie-dye, hippy, grungy-type stuff. There was also jewellery, which was also of the same style, which was perfect because I finally managed to successfully replace my earrings, one of which I lost whilst on honeymoon. I tried to get some from the normal Cambridge Market, but, although I did buy three pairs, none were the right ones. I’ve worn the same style for over ten years now.

We decided upon goat curry to eat for dinner (aka lunch) from one of the Caribbean stalls. Very tasty, it was, although there was far too much food for my tiny tum. (I’m serious - it’s like a reverse TARDIS in there.) We also found a bed-spread stall, which was good because I wanted a new one for the bed-sofa in the living room. We got a black one with some sort of crazy psychedelic mushroom and snakes (but no badgers) and another one which is tie-dyed blue and has elephants on it. Maybe snakes as well.

We went to the beer tent, which had some interesting-looking bitters, but it was far too hot for bitter, so we had lager instead. (Lager-drinkers!) The other end of the beer tent was being called the acoustic tent, where we listened to the tail end of of a song at the tail end of an act. We wandered off when they’d finished to sit on the grass near what appeared to be the main stage to drink our beer.

A bit more wandering brought us to the lost kids tent; we weren’t sure if the lost kids went in the tent or in the nearby cage with a boingy floor, which some may have called mini trampolines.

I saw a sign on the grass advertising strawberries and cream, which I couldn’t resist pointing out to The Hubsicle:

“See,” I said pointing to the strawberries and cream sign,” you can get strawberries.”

“Hmph,” he said, and I didn’t dare ask if we could get some!

Around 2.30, The Hubster’s whinging became unbearable, so we headed home, via the Old Spring, for refreshments because it was really very hot, and some of us were getting sunburnt. As ever.