French Fete

It was the annual school fete on Sunday.  French bunting, goodies, wine, rides, show bags (!) and an animal farm.  I did my bit for the school by offering to do leaflet dropping in our local area and making a gluten-free vanilla cake for the big day.  When I say I "offered" I mean that we were glared at by other conscientious mothers to volunteer for something until we broke down in the school courtyard ("I'll do it! I'll do it! Just don't flick your blonde hair at me again..." and every single child was given a plastic bag filled with a big paper plate, french ribbon and cellophane at the end of the week.

A feeling of dread and a weekend in the kitchen was the result of Henry proudly thrusting this package at me with the words "You HAVE to make a cake Mama".  Yes I know darling.

This community spirit thing is wearing me down.  This is what David Cameron is banging on about when he talks about England becoming part of The Big Society.  He needs to spend a week in Melbourne being a mother and see if he is so keen when you are stressed that the icing on your cake is not perfect (or dry), the baby is crawling around the kitchen crying because you can't pick him up because there are specific instructions about not giving in HOT CAKES but it has to be there by 4pm.  Or else.

Anyway, it was a lovely Sunday in the end, and probably raised about $60k for the school.  A bit different from the camping/Glastonbury-type festival we used to have at Forest Farm School where entry was either £5.00 or baking a cake.  Bring your own everything.  Sit on blankets listening to local musical talent.  And nobody went to bed before midnight. Including the children god forbid!  Tres extraordinaire!

PS Photo above from Forest Farm from a few years ago.  The boys just tuning their guitars for later on.