The Pig, the Whistle, the Chef and his guests

The day we didn’t race 

I fitted into the suit of many colours, 

a challenge of style for others, 

but when in the early morning light, 

we got the message, no racing in sight, 

a post dawn, icy inspection, 

on reflection there was no dereliction, 

we would still support the Santa theme, 

across Beverley we went as a team, 

Polly’s for breakfast and a little Christmas shopping, 

maybe a drink or two, no stopping, 

then off to the Minster for the trees on display amazed,

blown away by the images in play, 

so many organizations, so many charities, 

people who correct life’s irregularities, 

humbled as we were, we needed a break, 

snuck off to a little bistro by the bus depot, 

broke the rhythm, change the rhyme, 

took a little us time, and offered to take a photo, 

delightful Yorkshire folk, we didn’t know, 

spent the next half an hour in conversation, 

wonderful, joyous, complete confirmation

 of the reasons for our move up North, 

the friendliness, the openness, of course, 

this is Beverley, our new found residence, 

another lunch that justified our permanence, 

there’s a wedding coming, Madam has threatened, 

to gate crash the Pipe and Glass and bring a present.