Our village fete. Held every year on our local cricket field on Wimbledon Finals day. The sun always shines, the afternoon teas are amazing. We're in the middle of fields and hills with a view to die for. Not a road in sight, but a train chugging by in the distance on the half hour. There are book stalls, bottle stalls, tombolas. Pony rides and races for the children. A tug of war. Performances by the local ballet school and junior school choirs. A huge raffle, a beer tent, village bingo. The smell of newly mown grass.
I always feel as though I'm in the middle of an Agatha Christie novel without the gore and Miss Marple will come pottering round the corner at any moment. 