Floats and cake

There is something typically British about the fair and local fete. It is one of those events that you must do if you are to truly say you have experienced living in the UK. Much like having a pint in a small English pub there are just some things that must be done.

So it was with little excitement and minimum expectation, we went to the local school fete last weekend. On arrival we were greeted by a woman with a bright flack jacket with PTA plastered across it. I soon realised that this was not Police Tactical Assault but one of the dedicated Parents and Teachers Association reps that were directing the days events with army precision.
On entering the school oval there was a sea of children and parents streaming between islands of tents and stalls. The cake stand was overflowing with home made brownies, sponge cakes, biscuits and an assortment of other inedible sweets. There was the jumble stall containing mountains of things parents have always wanted little Johny to get rid of but could never pry from their hand. With broken toys, colouring-in books that were already coloured in, jig-saws with missing pieces, and Barbies with a missing body parts we still managed to come home with a boxful of things.

Then their was the food raffle, toy raffle, alcohol raffle, cow raffle and strippergram raffle (I couldn’t find that one) all enticing your hard earned money for that remote chance to win something you didn’t need or want. Like any good fete, the kids were not forgotten. There were jumping castles, archery, throw the wet sponge, luck dips and even a ride on steam train.

The end of the evening saw us head of to the procession through the main street with floats of all kinds and shapes. There was everything from the ‘young farmers’ in their tractors, to ‘Ms Joans hairdressers’ on the back of a pick-up truck . And just to show that we are slowly becoming part of the community, Adelaide was part of ‘scallywags float’ (where she goes to after school care). And guess what – Adelaide even made the news with a full page photo in the local paper – yes grandma and Jemma – she will post you a copy.

It was an experience that we just don’t seem to have mastered in the City. It was almost reminiscent of the past when children could play outside unsupervised, where mums role was in the kitchen and the fathers stayed at the pub for the 5 oclock swill. Not that this is what we should return to thanks Mr Howard, but it was great to see so many parents wanting to be part of the community and get involved in their child’s education. Connections that I think many of us have lost.

Overall it was a great day and something that typifies life in the south of England. But there is still much to see and do if we can truly say we have experienced Britain. There is the curries in Birmingham; going to an over-prised musical in west end, eating a deep fried Mars Bar and much more. And only 6 more months to do it.