text: My Fair Lady It happened at the fair. Our eyes locked, our hearts entwined and our lives tumbled. Sir Carlton Winslow, my good chum from university and myself, Sir Riley Fenwick, decided to take in the ever popular local market fair to delve into delectable street fare hawked out by costermongers and imbibe in some hardy ale dispensed by wanton wrenches. The bawdy sights and cacophony of sounds would provide a good diversion from our unending pressures of the late season of concerts, ballroom galas and afternoon teas we young blades were expected to grace our presence at or be forever outcasts in the high-society realms. What a boring and unproductive season this had turned out to be! The current crop of debutantes proved to be mousy, over-zealous gold diggers without an incomparable beauty among them. Unfortunately, we young eligible bachelors were obligated to play along if we were ever going to make a suitable marriage match made in heaven or in the history of banking for that matter. With our country being embroiled in war after war it is taking a toll on landed gentry. Dowries have been shrinking and more of us Corinthian types are being sent off to battle. Having a wife and heirs may reduce those odds. Still I would rather marry for love than for money or station in life. “What do you say, Ole Chum, we find some street eats and see what kind of entertainment we can find. Look, vendors of all goods line the promenade with colorful drapes of fabric tents. I can smell the roasted pig and sweet breads.” First we feasted on roasted meats and had a tipple or two then headed on down the cobblestones. We gravitated towards sounds of a harpsichord and found street musicians and dancers engaging the crowd. “Come dance with me.” A gaily clad gypsy pulled Carlton into her arms and swung him around clouding him in veils with zills clanging merrily. He laughed as he tripped the light fantastic. Then she spun him back out to me to catch before he fell flat on his face still giggling. We were almost run over by a dancing bear with a monkey on his back parading behind us. The red-vested monkey hopped down and sailed over the beast as he did a somersault. They joined the other performers including a contortionist, a dwarf, and a bearded lady. On another stage a magician was amazing the public with his illusions. Down the mall a puppet show was presented. I do believe that was the infamous Punch performing a routine. Children laughed uproariously. Nearby a strongman exhibition drew us closer. The burly fellow wielded a heavy mallet and took a swing at a metal plate attached to an upright huge scale. The ball on the scale soared to the top ringing a bell. Then he challenged the gentlemen assembled to give it a try. One white-haired macaroni stepped up no doubt to impress the fanning debutante on his arm of his manliness. Their chaperon tut-tutted behind them. Naturally, even with all his might thrown at the target the ball barely climbed the obstacle. Embarrassed the fool insisted the whole thing was rigged. I volunteered to rectify the argument and took a turn. The bell rang out true. Then Carlton, good chap, did the same. We tipped our top hats and carried on a midst the cheering. Amid the art displays sculptors were demonstrating their craft. One could step right up and get their hands dirty creating their own masterpiece. Further along we were tempted to enter the eating contests by the aromatic assault of funnel cakes and corn on the cob. But our bellies were still full of pulled pork. We did come away with small token trophies for our archery feats. Then we watched a rowing contest on the river. Some rogue convinced us to enter the amateur boxing match. So here we stood, best friends, bare-chested and bare-knuckled facing each other in a ring sparring off putting up our dukes. We would much rather be fencing one another. But we did what we could trying not to cause too much damage. “Okay, Riley, get ready. You asked for this.” “I'm not even the least bit angry with you. How am I supposed to knock your block off?” Thus we sparred and volleyed back and forth. He threw a jab and I ducked, I flung an uppercut and he backed away. Jab, hook, cross, counter-punch, clinch. Suddenly, I was dazzled. No, he hadn't landed a serious punch but I could only see stars. Stars in her eyes. The most beautiful smile in the world gazing up at me. Where had she come from? Then, POW! Carlton threw an upper cut that gobsmacked me silly and down I went. When I had my wits about me again she was still there her brow knitted with concern, her petite gloved hands clasped in front of her. I was sure I saw a vision of an angel in a white flowing gown with gold accents bestowing her grace upon me. Even through the sweat I could detect her delicate floral scent wafting towards me. “Oh, how horrible! Are you okay?” A sweeter than honey voice cried out. Do I prove how macho I am and jump up unscathed or play the helpless buffoon and let her care for me? “This is all play acting! Let's get away from this mayhem, My Dear, Lady Charity.” And she was led away by that white-haired dandy followed by an older woman in drab garb. “No, no. I can't lose you now.” I call after her but they are swallowed up in the revelry. “Come, Carlton, let's get dressed. I must find her. She is the Incomparable I have been yearning for.” “Don't be a fool. She is obviously spoken for. Banns may already have been announced this late in the season. Besides, he is dripping in old money. You wouldn't stand a chance. Let it rest.” “But she doesn't love him! I could tell by the way she looked at me. I must find her. There's been a crime! She stole my heart! My Fair Lady, Charity.”