The "British Standard Summer" featured prominently in the dance programme for our visit to the fete: fine one moment and a deluge the next.  Bert's pictures below give quite a good representation.

The driest spot was undoubtedly the beer tent in more ways than one.  There was trouble with the power to the till and no beer was being served.  This is, of course, second only to the end of the world for a Morris Man.  However, all was not lost - a few tunes and wiggle of the wires later and the till sprung into life.  Beer was available just in time for the next downpour.

The dancing did eventually get underway minus a few through injury, Tim through a funny turn and Karl who, having a memory like a sieve and not reading his email, had forgotten the event and gone to watch his bird somewhere.

Readers will not be surprised to learn that we spent the greater portion of the afternoon dancing at the aforementioned beer tent ready for a quick dash inside when the rain started its next lashing.

One of the good things about dancing at fetes is that you get to meet some very nice people.  Thanks Lyndsay for being an excellent rose and commiserations for once having had Bert as your teacher.

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