Who decides our fete?

Strolled up to The Maids Head for a lunchtime chota-peg and discovered that today was Wicken Village Fete. These are occasions we cannot resist.

The stalwarts of any village shindig, the local Morris side performed on the green by the pub as we scoffed our butties and quaffed our ale.

What would a fete be without the dog show? The local mutts were paraded before the critical eye of the local canine afficionados. All taken very seriously by the doting owners.

Are the cars and 'bikes really classic? I remember them as objects of desire in my youth.

The beer tent, no further comment required.

Especially for the children,

they were entranced by the tale of domestic violence, child beating and assault on the police.

The miller and the mill were decked out in their holiday finery.

There is no finer sight than the English when they let hair down.
We made it back to the boat just as the heavens opened.

Watch this space........