Féte

On Saturday lunchtime we heard the unmistakable sound of a steam lorry trundling down the road. Ah, yes, at two o'clock the annual summer féte would start. A warm, dry day, reliable weather for a walk down to the village and back without getting a soaking - we would go!

The field below the church was set out with stalls. The choice of games made me smile, they were all very appropriate for what had formerly been a farming community; splat the rat, welly throwing, duck racing, milk the cow!

Music played and people a queued for ice-cream.

The tractors were a big draw

for boys both big and small.

Himself liked the cars.

A good place to  sit and watch the welly throwing!

I liked this 1939 Austin tourer in British racing green with its lovely green leather seats. I don't imaging it raced but pootled gently around country lanes, hopefully with a picnic hamper strapped to the back.

Skittles,

probably borrowed  from the pub. 

Spiderman seemed very popular at the face painting stall.

This duck didn't go anywhere near the race.

Milk?!

The church tower was open

so we paid our £1 and prepared to climb.

First level was to the bell ringers gallery with this rather fine window. The story goes that it was removed for safety from the fire of London and was never returned.

Second level, the clock-winding mechanism.

Then up again to the bells.

And finally, through a VERY small door, out into the fresh air at the top of the tower where we had a bird's eye view of the countryside about us.

and the féte below.

A photo of the recent re-gilding of the weather vane - our own mythical beast! A good head for heights needed for that job.

Somewhere in the distance, beyond the field in the centre of this picture, is our cottage. We fortified ourselves with a slab of home-made cake and a drink from the village hall before walking back up the hill.