"No Business like Show Business", says Danny.
Then there would be a third tier of attractions, for there was a sort of Garden Fête "free-for-all" atmosphere for all sorts of "side stalls", official ones like recruiting stands, and the usual unofficial "Hoop-las", "Coconut Shies" and the like. An officer or SNCO was detailed to keep an eye on, and act as general facilitator for each of these.
So it was that I was appointed official guardian to the "Mrs Hughes-Williams' Troupe of Welsh Folk Dancers". On the face of it this seemed likely to be a pleasant assignment. But the devil, as always, was in the detail. Detail No.1 was that the Troupe consisted of 12 - 15 girls aged from about 8 to 12. Detail No.2 was Mrs Hughes-Williams herself: and she was not to be trifled with. A County Councillor, prominent member of Anglesey society, and (IIRC) she was from a military family where subalterns were expected to be seen and not heard.
As if all this was not enough, there was Detail No.3. The performances ideally required a small but level "sprung" floor to give of their best. It so happened that Valley had a transportable sectional boxing ring which was suitable for the purpose. The problem was where to put it up. If it were pouring down, obviously in a hangar. But in bright sunshine, much better in the open air. And the decision to assemble had to be made at the last possible moment, which meant that I had to keep my working party together and defend my chaps against all attempts to "borrow" them by other sections (I "pulled rank" on the SWO mercilessly).
It is well said of Valley that you can have four seasons in one day - and all of them winter. That morning, it was belting down; a cold front was coming through. But the Met man swore by all his Gods that the clearance would come at lunchtime. For once he got it right. Promptly at 1200 a beautiful blue rain-washed sky came in from the West. I'd held the assembly decision back to the last possible moment: now there was just enough time to erect the Ring in the open air position, before kick-off at 1400 (I don't think anybody got much lunch that day).
Everything ran like clockwork after that. Their coach turned up on time. We had the Ring up in position, levelled and decorated with a bit of bunting. They had their accordianist with them. A warm sun shone brightly. Even the wind dropped. And the dancers did look charming, in full Welsh folk costume with their little black cloaks and witch's hats.
I cannot now remember how many performances they were scheduled to give, but there were obviously long rest periods. In these the performers mixed with the crowds, where they were great favourites, being in particular demand for adding local colour to photographs, for which service they naturally expected a tip (I believe 6d was the going rate). They did quite well on that basis.
There may yet be folk who believe "St. Trinian's" to be a work of fiction. I have news for them. The little witches got into all the devilment they could find, the prize going to a small one found using the pitot head of the display Spitfire as a swing ! - while the airman on guard was fending off others.
One thing we did not have - Air Training Corps cadets among the crowd, rattling collection tins for the RAF Benevolent Fund. I know this is a Very Good Cause, and it was done on most of the "At Home" Days in later years, but I always thought it demeaning and the Cadets must have hated it.
Goodnight, chaps.
Danny 42C
Bless 'em All.