Fete worse than death? Um, no.
Two fetes in two days. England is gripped with sports fever this week (and next, and the one after that) but this weekend fete-mania has broken out. I went to one in Coleshill, Oxfordshire yesterday. It was at the home George Martin (the nice man who produced some Peter Sellers records) and enjoyed home made produce as well as winning 'The Little Book of Calm'.
Today I visited Stanford in the Vale Summer festival (it's a fete really). Fab stalls, won a bottle of fizz and some lovely looking French cider from the town twinning stall. On the way there I heard hymn singing from a small local church and enjoyed the sight of a Ghandi lookalike cooking veggy burgers on a grill in the rain.
Someone in Paris said they thought I looked like Ghandi. It's good to return the favour (must change my glassess too).
OK, this does not sound like the blog of an, up-all-night bassplayer/net-nerd. But I love cakes, fetes and... oh, back to the sport...
Current listening: 'Take your clothes off when you dance' - Frank Zappa (from the Lost Episodes CD)
Today I visited Stanford in the Vale Summer festival (it's a fete really). Fab stalls, won a bottle of fizz and some lovely looking French cider from the town twinning stall. On the way there I heard hymn singing from a small local church and enjoyed the sight of a Ghandi lookalike cooking veggy burgers on a grill in the rain.
Someone in Paris said they thought I looked like Ghandi. It's good to return the favour (must change my glassess too).
OK, this does not sound like the blog of an, up-all-night bassplayer/net-nerd. But I love cakes, fetes and... oh, back to the sport...
Current listening: 'Take your clothes off when you dance' - Frank Zappa (from the Lost Episodes CD)
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