I can smell burgers now the rain has come

Went to Brecon Fair yesterday. It was very many years before the magic of hot dogs and burgers finally deserted me and even now like an old dog my metaphorical ears still prick as if to the word ‘cats’ when the smell of frying onions wafts in.
Marcel Proust can keep his dainty cakes with me it’s the smell of frying onions and the front at Southend on Sea.
We wandered around these stalls – all containing Welsh food products.
By the way many years ago we visited the Kestrel pub just outside Brecon and it was kept by a German prisoner of War who had remained behind. We went there to see a Badger who had taken to coming into the bar and circulating among the clientele before departing into the night. The badger arrived dead on time and passed along the guests shaking hands and presumably making representations about the source of bovine TB before leaving by his usual exit and making his way back to the set.
An American visitor then asked the owner for something to eat that was typically Welsh. The landlord replied “Well there is only Welsh rarebit and that’s bloody awful”.
Back to yesterday it began to rain and at the same time I caught the smell of frying onions. Although I don’t eat the stuff these days I think subconsciously I probably resented the fact that it had started raining just as I had been ‘offered’ a hot dog, and I found myself saying to Ann, “I can smell burgers now the rain has come”.
I suppose I should have sung it and she might have sung back “Think of the cholesterol in your veins”
I did try desperately to get a picture of an enormous elf especially when she was eating cod & chips from out of the paper but failed. They all came out blurred