20 May 2012

The Freezing Fete

The fete at Great Easton is the best one in Leicestershire, and this is partly because it is held in a garden. The tea, cake and village hall china are reliably excellent and the plant stall demands careful planning: get there early or repent for a year. The book stall has a side line in ancient jigsaws and we bought one for £1 featuring classic cars outside a village pub with a church steeple in the background. Very Great Easton.

 Yesterday was possibly the most fun I've had at a fete and I think it was to do with the mad weather. My son was ensconced in fake fur (the hood on his parka was firmly up) and people were drinking tea with gloves on. The plant stall did not sell out in five minutes flat because people have rather given up on seeing flowers ever again. But the atmosphere was good, with friends, friends' parents and children's friends milling around and it was just as busy as it would have been in glorious sunshine.

As the temperature wavers between single and double digits, people become more full of hilarity. We aren't moaning about the weather any more. What's the point? It's all a joke, as the spring and summer slide away in a torrent of rain, wind and poor visibility. We are stronger in the face of adversity. God Save the Queen.


  1. It is impossible to find vegetable plants over here in New England. I found asparagus and rhubarb in one catalogue (Thompson & Morgan--oh yes, it's English) but only bare root. Otherwise it's just seeds which are not practical for some of us lazy people.

    But we do have glorious sunshine, on cue.

    1. I found out a few years ago that there is no point in raising all your plants from seed when they have been lovingly raised by somebody else with a greenhouse, and are cheap to buy at fetes. You won't find 'Nano Verde di Milano' though, just 'courgette'.
      Ah yes, the weather. We can put seeds straight in the ground, ignore them, and they grow! Can you?

  2. It's very hit or miss. We have the sun but lack the gentle English rain which so closely resembles the drizzle of a watering can.