FARMINGTON CORNER

A continuing tale of life in the boonies

No. 121

Alliteration recreation

Competitions are a regular feature of Farmington Corner, and just as regular are scurrilous charges from a jaundiced section of the readership regarding the top prize of $3 habitually being won by Mr. Ramgunshoch, who is, by sheerest coincidence, a fellow Scot. Well, having captured the last three straight, he is disqualified, and thus the field is wide open for lesser luminaries to break into the big time.

Competitors are asked to string a sentence together with each word therein beginning with the same letter, if possible. Two examples of the sort of thing you might compose on a dark and soggy May evening follow:

1. Belanger, bent but beady-eyed, brooming under bleachers, besotted by big bucks besides being buoyed by bric-a-brac, begets belligerent brushing biohazardous butts buried below by brazen blackguardly brats.

2A. Fervent Farmingtonians fighting fictional fabrications, farfetched falsehoods, flapdoodle, foul flim-flam, and lilliputious muckracking, find flakey friends fully fired for flagellating foes.

2B. Fanatical fatheads foreshadow fascism.

Get the idea? Remember, three crisp green ones to the winner, and worthy entries published. Send your sentence, written on a postcard, to Farmington Community Center, c/o Town Hall, Main St. Farmington N.H. 03835, to arrive by May 25, 1988. Alternatively, speak your sentence in a clear voice to 755-2405, or arrange for it to appear on New England Cablevision public announcements by private negotiation with that company. Sentences delivered by messengers in animal costumes, or given prominence by skywriting, will also be considered. Readers living in the upper reaches of the Mad and Cocheco rivers may wish to place their entries inside a bottle and float them downstream on the floodwaters. An eye will be kept open for these sentences, and if recovered they will be looked upon with favor.

See you later, alliterator. (In a while, typophile.)

Pipedreaming

"They're moving father's grave to build a sewer

They're doing it regardless of expense

They're digging his remains

To lay down ten-inch drains

For the sake of some posh folks' residence."

So runs a printable verse of a bawdy English music-hall song, which comes to mind as the Sewer Project brings trench warfare to Farmington's main drag. Work commenced last week, and is expected to continue over the summer until the middle of August, with larger pieces of machinery ripping up Main Street on Mondays through Thursdays, and filling in the holes come Friday. Or something like that. All the same, prayers should be offered that the Bicentennial of the Constitution parade in June does not disappear without trace, like a great river going underground.

In fairness, early indications are promising for a smooth operation. I checked with the first business to be affected, as the pipes crept past his premises - Mr. Royce Hodgdon of Farmington Appliance Center was not fazed a bit.

"Business has actually increased," explained the owner, waving a ham-sized fist over a flotilla of re-conditioned stoves and fridges.

"I can't get out with my van, so I have to stay and fix this lot. People are taking advantage of the quicker-than-usual service," added Royce, eyeing the hive of activity outside his shop.

Speaking with considerable warmth about his property, Mr. Hodgdon said it would survive even if the Red Army marched over the nearby Cocheco bridge.

"The town would be in trouble if Russians got by me though," he mused, and many would agree.

School news

Incredible though it may seem, high school principal Ken Beaupre, one of the world's least successful fisherman, has hooked a 1 lb. brown trout, which, if its weight is correct, must have eel-like proportions. To indicate the length of his catch Mr. Beaupre's arms approached full stretch, rather like my imagination. In response to a recent appeal in this column, Ken was given a tip-off concerning a good fishing hole (in the geographic region of Wakefield) by school custodian Fred Peavey. Mr. Peavey has now been allocated light duties, and is being hand-fed bunches of grapes, whilst gently wafted with a palm frond.

May 17, 1988

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