Saturday was the day we had all been looking forward to, our fete called us all from our homes very early indeed. The sky was overcast but there was no rain and we all dearly hoped it would remain thus. Children excitedly skipped along with their parents in anticipation of all the delights they would find at the fete.
The first sight inside the fete grounds was Tudor Owens happily preparing the hog for the roast, with help from his wife, Mary, and their daughter Mary. He was jolly as he worked, calling out to all who passed by, inviting them to come taste the roast this afternoon. The vendors were all busily setting out their wares, talking animatedly to one another as they worked. Eva Broome, with the help of her daughter Fiona, who smiled and thanked everyone for their good wishes on her recent marriage to Raif Tilgheman, was putting out such glorious cakes, their confections looking very inviting. Eva was just a little nervous, this being her first fete as the confectioner but smiled nonetheless, thanking well wishers.
Old Mary and her friend, Martha Ingle, who was visiting from Rushton, unloaded the donkey cart of jugs of elderflower drink they had brought, taking them into the church tea tent with the help of Alice Powell and Hetty Thorne. Inside the tent, Susan Medlyn bustled about unpacking china from crates, greeting all happily as they brought their cakes to be served with the tea. The tent was looking very festive with its buntings strung up behind the tables holding the cakes and tea oddments. Hetty and Alice had laid the tables with cloths making it look very elegant indeed.
The sounds of the villagers grew stronger as more and more arrived. Friends stopped to speak to one another in the judging tent after placing their offerings on the appropriate tables. There was much discussion among the people saying the judging would certainly be difficult this year. Mr Thomas, who was one of the judges, agreed it would be a difficult decision choosing winners in all the categories.
Just arriving, Elizabeth and Jenny could be seen with Salley, Sophia and Simone, who rushed ahead, eager to place their items on the table for the judges perusal. Their optimism was contagious as several other youngsters arrived and all began talking excitedly. This year it was decided there should be categories for the children as well as the adults, which captured the imagination of many of the local youngsters, their efforts most impressive.
Outside the judging tent, the Layne sisters were coaxing Tilly, their goat, along for the livestock judging. Ellen was cheerful as always wishing a good morning to all she met, Kate was more sedate, nodding her greetings. Tilly had been washed, brushed and had an enormous pink ribbon tied around her neck that she was desperately trying to eat, which was slowing their progress. Ellen laughed, tugging the bow back into place, Kate just harrumphed, thinking the bow unnecessary.
Soon, the merchants were hawking their goods, their calls echoing in the morning air, the church tea tent was welcoming its first guests and the rest of the village was arriving, eager for the day to begin. The puppet theatre had a small crowd gathering in anticipation of its first show, the children impatient for it to begin, temporarily amused by a man on giant stilts dressed in colourful clothing. The sun came out from behind the clouds several times, warming the day nicely.
Happy conversations were taking place everywhere as neighbours greeted one another, children laughed and played amongst the tents. The games started early afternoon, there were many races, but this year they had something for the older folk. The ladies were giddy with laughter as they tried to keep books upon their heads while walking the length of the field. There was a breeze and those with thinner books had them blown off, causing much laughter from the crowd. In the end, Mrs. Griffin and Old Mary were the steady walkers, Martha close behind. The entrants could not contain their laughter, causing their books to teeter and sometimes fall. The crowd cheered them on, Martha closing the gap between Mrs. Griffin and Old Mary until the three crossed the line in unison. The others soon followed, their mirth obvious at the unpredictability of the gusts of wind randomly upsetting their books. Many of the ladies competed in the needle threading race, running to the table to thread their needles, a simple task, yet under pressure it became quite comical to watch. Kate Layne took that race, smiling as her rosette was awarded.
Mr. Clutterback and Mr. Dawson, the new curate, took a turn serving in the church tea tent, their sleeves rolled up, aprons tied high above their waists, bustling around, nearly keeping up with the demands for tea and cake but often falling behind. They were both jolly as they carried their trays to the various tables, many just sitting watching the two in amusement, no one really minding they must wait for their refreshment. Oh, there were spills and upsets, but things were soon cleared, orders once again filled. It was good to see Mr. Clutterback, smiling and talking animatedly to all who entered; Mr. Dawson and he, teasing one another about picking up the pace and the mess!
A commotion at the mead tent caught everyone’s attention after the games had ended, young Mr. Carson looked to have enjoyed more mead than most and was boasting he had grown the tallest nettle in all the county and if anyone could find one taller, he’d eat it. Well, that sounded like a challenge to the men, many who went out looking for a nettle fit for Mr. Carson to eat. Old Mary cautioned young Carson his mouth would turn black and his tongue would swell if he ate the nettle, but he was steadfast. It wasn’t long before a larger nettle was found and presented to an amazed Mr. Carson, who, true to his word, proceeded to eat the nettle, all 13 feet of it! There was cheering as Mr. Carson consumed the nettle, pausing from time to time to drink, but he kept his word.
The shooting competition, was also a place of interest. William Marlowe was keen to take his turn, along side the men participating. Slowly the targets became smaller and those who missed were counted out. Finally, the smallest target, a walnut, was successfully shot by Jasper Downsman who was crowned winner, the other men congratulating him on his sharp eye and steady hand
Late afternoon saw the dancing commence. Pretty buntings fluttering in the breeze demarcating the area which constituted the dance floor, the musicians took up their instruments, all happy to join in. Alice and Hetty danced with the older of the Turner boys while Jenny was partnered with Davy Simons and Flossie with Edgar, Sir Charles’ valet, who seemed to be enjoying himself. Flossie must have been very persuasive for Edgar has never been seen to dance before.
Soon twilight cast its violet gaze, candles were lit and children were taken home and put to bed. The young people laughed and danced well into the night until finally the musicians ceased playing. Everyone quietly began making their way home, their candles like a constellation slowly transiting the village, lights winking out, one by one, until all were home, the day at an end.
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