Sample Chapter from... Stone Wall Gardens and a Proper Cup of Tea
Ferret Racing and Scottish Jigs
The first weekend after we bought our little French car, we could hardly wait to go on an adventure. The countryside called to us.
The sun was bright. The breeze was cool, and the gas tank was full -- even though it cost about $75 to fill it up. It's a good thing it gets about 50 miles to the gallon, or so we were promised.
Off we drove to the Great Bentley Harvest Fair. While the weather is good, these types of fairs are everywhere. They are similar to our county fairs in the U.S., but with a decidedly British flavor.
As we drove south, a hand-painted sign announced that there was a "car boot" sale ahead. Our little Peugeot seemed automatically to turn in. We paid our 50 pence (about 75 cents) to park, and for the next hour we walked from table to table and car trunk (the boot) to car trunk looking at every item.
There were old and new tools, and loads of used clothing. People were selling garden plants from the back of their cars and fresh produce. Books, junk, baby stuff, antiques, dolls, office supplies, stationery -- nothing was too small or too awful to be offered for sale.
After eating fresh strawberries, we walked back to the car. The fair was about to start, and we didn't want to be late. The narrow winding road made us wish we hadn't eaten all those great-tasting strawberries, but just when we were thinking we might not make it all the way to Great Bentley, we rounded a death-defying curve, and before us lay a huge field with a big white tent. The sign announced we had arrived in Great Bentley. (There's a Little Bentley, too, but I can't see how it could be much smaller.)
As we walked from the car park (actually just an adjacent field) we could hear a man talking over the public address system... saying something about ferret races. Cat’s eyes lit up with anticipation, so we quickly made our way towards a gathering crowd clustered around a small fenced enclosure.
The big, fat man stood behind the rope that kept the crowd at bay and pointed to the long partitioned runs in front of us. He explained that ferrets are still used to scurry down rabbit holes and chase the little rodents out into the open to be killed. He wanted all of us to bet on our favorite ferret before the race began. The money would be used to take care of the poor tired creatures that had retired from their rabbit hunting days. I wondered who was collecting money for the poor rabbits, but Cat was thrilled to pet one of the stinky little critters.
The crowd placed their bets, the beasts were released, and eventually one of them made its way to the finish line. Not exactly the “sport of kings,” but I guess the money went to a good cause.
The admission charge to the big white tent was 25 pence, and inside was a smaller version of the kinds of things we would have at our U.S. county fairs. Just inside the entrance was a big table holding the cups and ribbons that were about to be awarded for the best floral displays, jams, vegetables and fruit samples.
Smaller tents sat in a circle on the other side of the field. This was where local charities displayed items for sale and gave out literature about their programs. There was the Life Boat Association - the group that sends boats out to rescue people who have trouble at sea. There were also several animal rescue groups selling little items to raise money. I bought a red bandanna for Tess, our neighbors' black retriever.
Behind the huge tent was a large group of people holding a Scottish dancing exhibition. They were all dressed up in their kilts and plaids dancing a jig. It was a strange sight to see so many happy people in skirts sweating like crazy in what felt to me like a chilly English breeze.
My favorite part of the fair was the dog show. I never did quite figure out exactly how it worked, but from my seat it looked like whoever seemed to know the judge the best turned out to be the winner. There were some pretty ugly dogs in that show, but their owners sure were friendly with the judge.
Even if other folks seemed to feel warm, I could feel the breeze grow colder and colder as the afternoon wore on. After we saw all of the charity booths, the ferret races twice and the Scottish dancers through four jigs, we were ready to head back up the highway to Hadleigh.
As we drove home, the sun quickly disappeared for the day. The sky was full of different shades of blue and gray. I was thinking how this little fair helped me see how much we rural Americans are like the rural Brits. I guess that's why this place feels like home.