On Saturday, it was the 4th Worcester Park Scout Group summer fete. As you may recall, I’d gone to their Christmas fair a while ago, and as it was such a nice sunny day, I thought I’d pop along:
I paid my 50p entrance fee and was given a programme. On the back, there was a picture of a pirate which you could colour in. I might scan it and hold another colouring in competition like this one I ran a couple of years ago.
Whereas the Christmas fair is held inside the scout hut, the summer fete takes advantage of the small field at the back. This means they can offer some larger scale attractions than the Christmas fair; although they still had the Money Tree:
The Money Tree consists of a giant board with a picture of a tree painted on it; within the “leaves” of this tree are hundreds of holes, each filled with a plastic tube (the tubes themselves were those black plastic canisters you used to get 35mm film in). You pay 30p and pick a tube. Some of them contain a coloured dot, most don’t. If you find a coloured dot, you win a prize. The little shit in front of me, not more that six years old, won a fiver. I didn’t find a dot in my tube. Fortunately, there is a“prize every time” and so, despite not finding a coloured dot, I was allowed to choose between a strawberry chew or 2p. I chose the strawberry chew.
Also, I was again disappointed not to find a Bat-The-Rat stall. I’m beginning to wonder if I have batted my last rat.
The activities at the summer fete mainly seem aimed at people who like throwing or kicking or launching through some other mechanism things at or into other things.
There was a hoopla stall (where you have to throw a small rubber ring onto an upright wooden post in order to win a prize); a crockery smash (where you throw lumps of wood at some crockery for no reason other than it’s fun to smash stuff); a thing where you throw small balls into some buckets; a thing where you throw darts at playing cards; a thing where you try to score a goal against a middle-aged man who has kindly sacrificed his Saturday afternoon to have children kick footballs at him; a thing where you fire a bow and arrow at a target and who cares if there’s a prize or not, you’ve got a bow and arrow. Every possible combination of things being fired at other things was catered for. If you like throwing stuff, you’ve come to the right place.
It turns out that, actually, I’m not that keen on throwing stuff.
I wandered around for a bit. I had a beer and some chips. There was a singer, but she mainly performed quite slow ballads which didn’t fit in with the mood of the day (“And tell me, does she kiss, like I used to kiss you? Does it feel the same, when she calls your name?” This is not party music). After a while, I left. I bumped into my sister as I was leaving. She was going to the fete with her partner and their two kids. I kind of get the feeling that the summer fete was designed with young families in mind rather than thirty year old men on their own, so they probably enjoyed it more than I did.