I was at a supper recently when one of the guests said she couldn’t wait to leave the ‘hustle of town life for a village where the community is so much more cohesive, and everyone joins in.’

Two thoughts went through my mind: she was talking about leaving Petersfield (Hampshire market town, population 13,000, one Waitrose, four bookshops, a real market twice a week, a thriving am dram scene….) not exactly London, New York, Tokyo….

And secondly, village life has more social strata than a sedimentary cliff face – and no, not everyone joins in.

We know this on both counts, us who do join in and organise the village festivities.

So, for those of you not familiar with our festivities, let me set the scene:

The village main street is closed on the late May Bank Holiday and along it there are stalls, entertainments, the pub is packed, there is human fruit machine, a barbecue and other food and a carousel and trampoline, a very lucrative bottle stall … .

This is a couple of members of the music trio and stallholders patronising the tea stall before we opened.

Then, behind the street there is a dog show, sheep shearing, people dressed up in the costumes of the 17the century, archery, a splendid and extensive pop-up bookshop which is called the bookstall but you need to think 1,000 books not just a few…

Just before the festivities open, there is a march by members of The Old Club, with a local brass band along the street and back and that opens the event.

( That morning they have walked the bounds of the village and brought hazels and willows to decorate the street ends.)

This is all organised by a small group, and to claim a modicum of respectability, we call ourselves a committee. 

Let me give you  two vignettes which might prove my points about village life:

One :

Last year, I took over the management of the stalls on the street.

My predecessor had been doing this for several years before he left the village and, in handing over to me, he said ‘you spend a lot of time and a lot of emails making sure it works on the day.’ He was right.

I was very nervous and, being me not him who did it more or less by himself, I roped in two great, efficient and organised women ( first rule: make sure your deficiencies are covered) to make sure we had a plan of what went where and how it worked. 

And one day, whilst nipping to the shop to get a few things, I bumped into a neighbour from over the road. 

I asked her if she might be willing to give up a couple of hours first thing on the morning to help get the stallholders in the right place, with their cars off the street in good time etc etc.

(Detail not my strong point but throwing up my hands and asking for all sorts of help – now that’s my forte.)

She said yes – and I was very pleased. 

Anyway, on the day my carefully drawn plan was just a bit lacking in detail (a few stalls forgotten) but generally it worked. ( see above.)

The neighbour turned up, with her husband, at 8am, to do a couple of hours – and they were still there to do the clearing up at 8pm that night.

So, now she is one of those who joined in and is in charge of traffic marshalling and do you know what, it was very well organised this year.

(PS I heard that my predecessor drew up his plan of the stalls’ whereabouts the night before after having a few pre-Festivities drinks and again, do you know what, apparently, it worked fine…)

Two:

In order to be able to shut the main street for a day, we have to ensure that emergency vehicles have another route through.

Which in turn means we have to have marshalls at either end of the street to re-direct people – despite the signs people want to ask someone which way to go.

So, my in-charge neighbour was at one end of the street making sure cars were diverted when a woman approached with a car full of plants for the plant stall – she was at least a hour later than was specified by my email for getting vehicles unloaded and away from the street.

Now, the plant stall is a great seller and are usually cleared out by lunchtime – all locally grown and organised by the village horticultural society, so generally a good thing but some of the people who run it do seem to think they are exempt from the rules which work, apparently, perfectly well for the rest of us.

The driver was told she couldn’t go through because she had arrived after the street was shut, and every stallholder had been told to get their goods and cars off early before the march – and so she would have to park elsewhere.

The driver said (rudely) she was having none of that and drove at my marshalling friend, just by-passing her, and parked where she fancied.

There is a strata, or should it be stratum, of villagers who clearly view the hardworking volunteers running the festivities as the lower orders.

Welcome to village life.