This weekend we went to Woodhall Spa in Lincolnshire to visit Anne's mum and step-dad. They had a treat lined up for us on Saturday: a visit to The Lincoln Sausage Festival (I kinda gave that one away in the title to this post didn't I).
The last time I went to a cultural event in Lincolnshire it was the Lincolnshire Agricultural Show a few years back. That was an odd experience, and I was taken aback to see a load of pig cartcasses hanging up inside a tent, graded for quality. The pig whose skinned corpse won first prize must have been rather proud, up there in pig heaven.
Lincoln is a pretty little city with a nice cathdral on a steep hill (called Steep Hill).
I went armed with my camera, and was pleased, yet disappointed, not to see loads of misused apostrophes (spotting those is usually how I entertain myself around markets).
Luckily there was plenty there to keep me entertained. Check out these zany guys:
Here's a photo of me buying some fudge, packed for me by a kindly lady:
This evening we braved the caravan-infested roads to return to Cambridge, laden with fudge and Lincolnshire sausages. Yay!