Neglecting Local Matters

I have just been reprimanded by a co-contributor for getting bogged down in politics and neglecting to report on the many activities which took place up here at the weekend. To start with I have a load of jobs that ought to be done and weather conditions are holding them up. So here is my report. On Saturday I had to fetch my weekly paper but before this could be done I had to deliver Sian and a large quantity of greenery and flowers to be used in the St..Margarets Flower Festival. Local people have supported this annual fundraiser in several ways for over 30 years. The tradition is that most displays include home grown flowers, not an easy task at this time of year. By 10.00 am a large collection of flowers has appeared and some flower arrangers have already completed their works of art, some even on the Friday. Others are still arriving to start their creations, while others are in their kitchens baking cakes for the tea which always follows the Festival Service.

The flowers delivered I set off to get my paper. I soon realise that the holidays are with us as there were a lot of vehicles on the road. Suddenly I see posters advertising strawberry teas from 2pm and supporters are gathering outside another small church delivering tables and supplies. Having negotiated the small traffic jam that has gathered I pass on to the next village where the next traffic jam is due to the Country Market which is attracting large numbers customers to buy local produce, craft materials and yet more tea and cakes.

Luckily there is still a good supply of newspapers at the shop. On my return journey I negotiate the two congestion zones previously mentioned and safely negotiate the on coming horse boxes, stock trailers and more customers heading for the valley events. A message on the answering machine tells me that various additional supplies are needed for the Flower Festival so off I go again, but not before noticing a forgotten essential artefact for Sian’ arrangement which is accordingly stowed in the boot of the car.

Not long after the main bulk of the arrangements are completed the group of the remaining group is disturbed by the arrival of a heritage tour party who have arrived in what seems like a large white whale of a bus. They were probably responding to http://www.visitherefordshirechurches.co.uk/

Having negotiated flowers and buckets the party is soon seated with the tour guide explaining the unique features of the church. Cameras flash, postcards are bought, and donations made. Motorists in the lane are no doubt negotiating the latest surprise to be placed in their way. Soon peace descends as the coach leaves to trim the hedges on both sides of the lane with its expensive wing mirrors.

Elsewhere a music course is taking place, walkers are up on the ridge getting soaked, bookworms are trawling the shelves in Hay while I still have yet to trawl the sheds for the bring and buy stall which will form part of the aforementioned afternoon tea event, alongside yet more cakes and vegetables on the produce stall. Meanwhile the grass has grown another inch and another bit of the old shed has fallen off. Nothing happens in the countryside.
Dacier