The view from the Victoria sponge

This blog covers a multitude of recent popular subjects. Baking being one of them. The drawing (it’s not a sketch for crying out loud ) is a first idea put down on paper very quickly and I just hope that I can get the same feeling onto the final as happened in this. It’s part of a series on the British which was somewhat interrupted by the Brexit shenanigans, and has caused me to think a little more about the project. We are not quite what I thought we were before the vote. Anyhow, politics aside, and that’s where they are best left for the time being, this is a drawing of a typical Summer fete day somewhere in the British Isles.

the-view-from-the-sponge205

 

The word fete is almost guaranteed a day of dark clouds and some teeming rain.Ladies of a certain age will have spent some time baking the obligatory Victoria Sponges for the teas which of course is the highlight of a local fete. The sweet peas will have been through the judging at the plant and produce table, and at least one of the gardeners entering the competition will grumble about the size of someone else’s onions.

Some of the ladies there will be wearing what we used to call pacamacs, which were basically plastic bags pretending to be coats, and will also have smaller plastic bags on their heads to prevent dampness getting to the ‘blue rinse’.

Dogs will be in evidence as will be the odd harrumphing retired colonel who, no doubt will be chewing on a pipe.Inevitably fetes happen only in villages, it’s rare to find them in towns ( they are then referred to as “street parties” and only happen when HRH reaches a significant milestone ). These days villages are mainly populated by incomers and people who can afford the massive prices for peasant cottages that are the norm these days.

So there you have it, Summer’s gone now and the village will be gathering large amounts of wood to burn an effigy on November the 5th to celebrate someone who tried to burn down the Houses of Parliament. Oh crikey! Back to politics.


 

 

Pitchcombe, what nonsense is this?

Pitchcombe

Combe is from the latin for dung and in this instance pitchcombe is the word used for the hurling of dung. In particular cow dung that has dried enough for it to be successfully lifted as a complete circle and then thrown. It is thought that Pitchombe preceded Frisbee as a marketing name, but has since fallen out of common parlance.

glosserpitchcombe356


Another of my nonsensical meaning for Gloucestershire place names which I’m hoping to publish quite soon in a book entitled “Glossary”, its going to be quite a small book!

Pitchcombe is in actual fact on a hill overlooking Stroud and a very pretty place too. Worth a visit but look out for frisbees, especially the low flying ones.