A fete worse than death

The summer season has arrived. One knows this not because outside Fortescue Towers it is currently raining and Blenkinsop is valiantly attempting to bail the Croquet lawn but because we have just suffered the first of the years village fetes.

As usual the entire village gathered on the part of the green not taken over by itinerant tarmac sellers for a few hours of jollity or at least as much jollity as can be had standing beneath plastic awnings watching the rain. Of course, the sun did break through occasionally and the plethora of stalls and sideshows were well attended. Utterthwaites 'Bat-a-Rat' stall did a roaring trade although one feels that one should tell him that a sand filled sock is the norm and that real rodents are not to be used. There were a number of complaints about airborne rodents spoiling afternoon tea as they flew through the windows of houses bordering the green. Several elderly ladies had to be revived with smelling salts after wildlife landed on the fruit cake.

Equally, cooks 'Guess the age of the marmalade' and 'Guess the weight of the cake' stall was well attended with numerous villagers asking if they guessed the correct figure whether they could be let off claiming the prize. One would never have guessed that a Victoria sponge could be quite that heavy. The good news is that one has been informed that the verger will make a complete recovery given time and rest and that the back pain will vanish. One did tell him to seek help before trying to lift it singlehandedly.

The other big draw seemed to be Mr Llewelyns lucky dip. It was only afterwards we discovered why. The old chap is somewhat hard of hearing and had not quite caught the meaning of "Fill the barrel with bran, Dai.". One did wonder why it was so popular with the youngsters from the council estate at the far end of the village. No doubt made a change from their usual cheap cider. Just rather glad that the vicar discovered it before the youngsters from the local junior school finished their dance presentation. The tabloids would have had a field day.

Naturally the highlight of the day was the village vs travellers cricket match. One is sad to say that it was a dark day in village history, losing as we did by so many runs. Not only did the victorious travelling side make off with the wickets as is the custom but most of the tiles from the pavilion roof as well. Even more galling is that they took Blenkinsops wooden leg that was acting as middle stump after it was discovered that the one from the village set had succumbed to woodworm over the winter months. One supposes one will have to sacrifice another of the Chippendale chairs so that Utterthwaite can carve him another one. He does look rather odd hopping around the Croquet lawn in a yellow raincoat. Rather resembles a demented Canary, quite off putting when one is trying to read the newspapers.