By the time you read this, the local elections will have
been and gone. Quite honestly I’ve lost interest. If there’s something
guaranteed to turn you off local politics, it’s following local politicians on
Twitter. The hair pulling and tit-for-tat that goes on between wannabe (and
indeed existing) councillors on this so-called social networking website, has
been anything but sociable. What’s the big fuss anyway? Once they’re in they
will spend the next five years arguing about dog muck and who’s supposed to mow
the grass in the cemetery. Important stuff granted, but come on girls, play
nicely.
So, if the new guard hasn’t taken control of the South
Shropshire Journal you will have read the first bit of this column, and if you
live in Ludlow or its environs (or anywhere else for that matter) you can look
forward to this town putting on a socking great party that celebrates victuals
and grog. The Ludlow Spring Food Festival is like the sexy but demure sister of
the big September event. Both equally luscious in their own way, but the spring
one for me has the edge.
The Spring Event has a big old beardy beer tent and here
Shropshire does its thing better than anyone else in the world. We are a county
of understatement and quiet plodding, but we brew beer like nobody else. The
sausages, the bread, the E-type Jags and Alvises (the Marches Transport
Festival runs concurrently in the castle grounds) and a bit of iffy folk music
is just so very British. And it takes place in May, the most splendid, verdant
British month. A big hug of a festival that shows off what we do best in this
not-so-quiet corner of England. And it makes me jolly proud to be a Shropshire
Lad.
Whilst Ludlow’s gastronomic crown may have slipped and
slided around on her head over the years, it’s these weekend-long jollies that
keep her steady. Michelin stars come and go, but the festivals make life
gastronomically and socially sound in this town. The May Fair last weekend will
no doubt have attracted it’s usual tedious dose of NIMBYism from Disgusted of
Ludlow; “The helter-skelter was virtually in the upstairs drawing room,
simply ghastly. And the smell of fried onions, uugh.” but actually, it all adds
to the fun of living in a market town.
Festivals and fairs make places tick, whether you like them
or not. Communities come together and celebrate the good things - bangers or
candyfloss- and others flock in from afar and point out the things that we as
natives take for granted: low house prices, friendly smiles from strangers,
quirky independent shops, omnipresent dog poo, untended graveyards…We live in a
good place. Let’s enjoy it.
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