Village fête season is upon us – that summer staple of rural life, defined by a motley collection of gazebos, hay-bale arenas, bunting, beer, dogs in neckerchiefs and prayers to the weather gods.
But are the idyllic pictures of rural community cohesion and estate-agent propaganda a reality? The village fête has experienced a resurgence, with Covid cancellations making us wistful for communal events, and lockdowns making us appreciate neighbourly spirit or yearn for the local, the simple, the rural ‘good’. The platinum jubilee and coronation gave us a reason to come together; a collective desire to organise something homespun as part of something bigger.
Fêtes are different from fairs, which marked dates in the agricultural calendar and had hiring, buying and selling at their core. Many of these have ancient charters and exist now as annual funfairs, or have morphed into county shows. Fêtes are far more recent – smaller, ad-hoc affairs, that began to feature in 1920s and ‘30s village life, mostly (as many still are) as fundraisers.
In spring 2020, after the first lockdown, the first thing we promised ourselves as a community was a coming back together, a celebration: a fête.
As with most rural committees, fêtes tend to rely on the same few volunteers to pull them together. And though this seems to me a modern malaise, in the 1950s (the heyday of village fêtes) the chair of the fête and flower show (a local farmer) was also chair of the parish council, chair of school governors, a member of the Women's Institute and church committee, as well as a Scout and Guide leader. There are wonderful records that ring the changes: no longer do we have produce and flower shows from cottage gardens or bowling for a pig – and definitely not a baby show. Judged by the local nurse, the competition was stopped “for the jealously it caused”.
WhatsApp has been a boon to fête organisation; phones ping with requests for hook-a-duck paddling pools, cool boxes and the search for the dented tea urn.
New faces and fresh ideas are welcomed – and help spread the workload with good humour. For no matter how good your connections or skills, there will be someone who has always done it – and always done it their way. You would be wise to avoid a confrontation and also, to listen to the wisdom of fête elders: there must be something for everyone (including the village youths) and crucially, something for all budgets. Converted-horsebox cocktail bars are all well and good, but a dustbin filled with iced water and cans of beer needs to be available, too.
The economic diversity of a village is apparent in the cast of old wellies lining up to be wanged: childrens’ frog-eyed boots and sparkly numbers stand beside colourful pairs of high-end festival-wear, and neoprene-lined Le Chameau jostle in odd pairs with Dunlops. En fête, sock ‘rats’ are splatted, coconuts shied and gazebos held on to by neighbours living fields apart. Grown-up children bump into primary-school classmates, and newcomers and all-comers mingle with four generations of some families.
A village fête is just that: community celebration that needs a diversity of people to organise and keep it alive, not just turn up. To the weekenders, the family from the big house, and the families from the council estate, the well-planned fête can be a real leveller. A sense of belonging is the reward. I’d put that in the estate agents’ window.
