Trading FUTURES

Mrs D becomes a fortune teller – well, who’d have predicted that?

- Rosie x

It’s the day of the Liberation Fete, and there is quite a good turnout. We have a children’s fancy-dress competition, and three of them have come as the COVID virus. Have they no mercy?

Two of the COVID viruses are twins, and they are currently sitting in the tea tent, working their way through lemonade and some scones. I have been coming to village fetes for more years than I care to remember, but I’ve never before seen viruses with such large appetites.

Their costumes are vivid red spheres with little bits sticking out. A lady came in earlier, took one look at them, and put her mask on.

We’re in-between busy times at the tea tent, so there is a moment to take in the atmosphere. A brass band in the distance is playing Thank You for the Music, by ABBA, which sounds as if they’re patting themselves on the back (although I imagine you can’t really pat yourself on the back while playing the tuba).

The music is punctuated by the sound of plates being smashed in Granny’s Attic, the grunt of welly wangers as they show off their prowess, and the low and satisfying clack of traditional wooden balls against wooden skittles.