Last post about Royal Wedding Day, promise.
Yesterday, after watching all the celebratory guff on the TV, we went off to a street party. It was 'organised' (if that is the word) in a village near here. It was a simple thing: no-one actually was in charge, but there was a general agreement to bring some food and drink, a couple of chairs and whatever took your fancy. There is a village green next to the church, but it is a bit too uneven to put tables and chairs on; but the road there is wide and the traffic slight, so the street party was really a bus-stop-and-half-the-road party.
It was great. We sat in the sun, ate other people's food (while they ate ours), had a drink and chatted to people we had never met before. There were babes-in-arms, children, teenagers, young mums and dads, grannies and grandads. No-one was in charge, no-one was taking money (unless you count one villager who generously put an urn and some tea, coffee and milk on a table with a box marked 'donations for charity'), no-one had filled in any forms, no-one had to be inspected, no risks were assessed, and I doubt very much if the County Council even knew about it, never mind give 'permission'.
After a while, the kids got bored and moved a few yards away to the village green, where an impromptu game of rounders was started. A child climbed a tree unsupervised! ...
... and then fell out if it.
Her friend picked her up and they carried on playing.
It was great fun, and very life-affirming. I am normally a fairly solitary creature, but yesterday I was glad to be a social animal and meet lots of different people. It brings out my good side.
No organisers, no rules, no Big Society, no commissars from the local people's soviet coming down with instructions and targets and inclusivity quotas and helpful 'suggestions'.
Anarchy in Action. And it was great.