Clavering Village Fete. This has now become such an attraction that thousands of cars converge on the village and the whole thing has lost its rustic charm. When we first came here, 45 years ago, bowling for a pig literally meant that, if you won you took home a dear little piggy, no doubt to raise it, fatten it and ultimately eat it. There was a beer tent selling home brew – pretty potent stuff too – and tugs-of-war between the local village teams. Now the whole thing has become far too commercial with people selling garden furniture, jewellery and the like. For the first time since we came here I gave it a miss. Maybe I’m just getting old but I really did prefer the simpler fete of olden days.
My great excitement today was to see my kindly sewing lady. Although I’ve had most of my trousers fitted with Velcro flaps at the top and a key ring on the fly zip, I am finding it increasingly difficult to take down and pull up my underpants. So I decided I would get her to sew a tape loop onto on each side, into which I can insert two fingers which I believe will make the process easier for me whilst I still have some use in my hands, which are undoubtedly getting weaker by the day.