1989
was my first Prisoner convention at Portmeirion, and my first encounter with
The Village Guardian. ‘It’ wasn’t a bit scary, I wasn’t at all afraid. In fact
Rover was quite amiable. Yet, if memory serves, it wasn’t until later in the
day, when Rover made it’s full public appearance for the chess match, that it
became troublesome. But that was only because the fishing-line by which Rover
was being controlled became tangled up in the rhododendrons! That’s me in the
piped blazer and straw boater. A real straw boater as well, to say that it was
heavy, made of thick straw, not a cheap flimsy boater. I recall a one conventioneer
knocking my boater off my head. He quickly apologised, instantly realising that
it was a proper straw boater. Crickey! I’d better stop I’m beginning to sound
like Johnny Prisoner!
BCNU
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