Sights at the Festival

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This content is only available during the Fruits of the Zee Festival!

For festival history, see Fruits of the Zee Festival (historical).


Bunting and flower-garlands! Newspaper-cones filled with rubbery lumps! A sinister lambency beneath the cliff-foot waves!

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Sights at the Festival
0Back out onto the cold, dark zee...
1 – 4A cluster of figures climb to the clifftop. Odd. There's nothing up there.
5 – 9Halfway up the hillside stands the maypole. The ribbons twine around it, twists of bright colour.
10 – 14The trees (real trees!) rustle under one of Mutton Island's unpredictable breezes.
15 – 19On the quay, a Twinkle-Eyed Lobsterman sells cones of rubbery lumps to fresh tourists.
20 – 24Flower baskets decorate the whitewashed cottages. Daffodils, yellow as the forgotten sun. Peonies pink and purple. The blue bells of lazy foxgloves.
25 – 28A whiff of something mouth-watering reaches your nose: someone is frying fresh rubbery lumps.
29Black waves lick white sand. Drownies venture onto the shore.
30 – 34Was that a lone lamp, flitting through the shoreside ruins?
35 – 39On the harbour a victorious tourist holds up his wriggling, silver catch. Admirers coo.
40 – 44A sheen of phosphorescent seaweed glows on the waters at the cliff's foot.
45 – 49A smell rolls off the harbour: salt-wet boats and drying lobster pots.
50 – 54Black waves slap against the rocks that ring the island. How sharp they are! Like teeth!
55 – 59The merry lights of the island glimmer on the zee-waves. Only to the east and south, though. forth and west, the island is dark.
60 – 69A raucous cheer from the beer tent!
70 – 79A jaunty tune kicks up from the feasting tables. Feet stamp! Hands clap!
80 – 84Youths in white dresses and white smocks dance through the streets, garlanding tourists with flowers.
85 – 89Drownies bob in the water, calling to tourists on the waterfront. They are not normally so bold.
90 – 94A straw-stuffed effigy stands on a roof. A robed thing; or are those wings? A hole has been cut through its middle. An unlit candle sits inside.
95 – 99A merry girl with bells on her ankles leads a line of dancers along the waterfront. Her hair is black as the zee. Her cheeks are red as roses.
100A discordance. Are two bands playing? No. One song comes from the island. The other - muted, but no less merry - from beneath the waves.