Spring Fete
Copyright oggbashan February 2023
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.
There are some Femdom episodes. If you don't like femdom - back click.
I fell into bed shattered at 2 am. My wife Maureen snuggled up to my back.
"Graham? Why do you do it? You get exhausted every time."
"I know, but no one else will..."
I rolled over and went to sleep. The alarm clock was set for seven a.m.
+++
Our large village of Seven Willows was the largest of four in the combined parish.
We were rather startled and disappointed when our elderly vicar retired and was replaced by a young married woman, the Reverend Rebecca Smithers. She had worked with our old vicar up to the New Year including Christmas.
But we were surprised when she announced in January that because the material state of the four churches needed work that we would hold a Spring Fête in addition to our usual Summer Fête. She had persuaded the owner of the Manor House, a retired pop singer and his actress wife, to sponsor the Fête.
We had been surprised when they bought the Manor House and slightly worried. We needn't have been. Their infrequent parties had generally stayed within the fifty acres of the grounds. The only signs we had seen were expensive cars arriving and leaving and some infrequent performances in the village pub - unannounced and free. They supported many village organisations and events, and were almost ideal neighbours.
Because it would be held on April 1st she asked us to consider some April Fool jokes as part of the fête and asked for the help of the organisations from all four villages. The jokes should be fun, not cruel and all those taking part should be aware that the joke was about to occur.
The object of the Fête was to raise money for repair of the churches, but if we had fun while doing it, that would be good.
The village organisations went into huddles in private houses. There was far more secrecy that had been usual for our summer fairs, and much hilarity.
As Chairman of the combined Parochial Church Council I was the major organiser and had been for the last thirty years. I had retired ten years ago and I was getting less active and slower than I had been. Organising a village fête was getting harder each year.
The pop singer, Richard and his wife Erica -- their real names not their stage names -- would provide financial support for the hire of the marquees, portable toilets etc. The new vicar would open the fête. But all the work would be mine.
The Spring Fête would start by a recital of pieces from the Messiah by the Mason's male voice choir. Of course some of the female parts had to be transposed because there were no sopranos or altos and only one counter-tenor.
They started well with 'We like sheep...' but somehow Farmer Gerard's sheep entered the Fête field and were pushed by his dogs among the Masons. While they were singing 'We like sheep have gone astray' they were surrounded and impeded by stray sheep.
Farmer Gerard's dogs eventually herded all the sheep away to the bottom end of the field until he waited for his turn to display his sheepdogs' skills
But the Mason's then started to sing 'Unto us a son is born'...
The recent Mothers' pram walkers joined the Masons and held up their babies, many of whom objected loudly even if they were greeting their grandfathers and fathers.
Andrew was the greatest hit. At three months he recognised his grandfather Abraham, giggled, smiled and pulled at Abraham's beard so that he had to sop singing and play with his youngest grandchild.
