Fete accompli
My flat is on the southern side of Palmers Green, which means I live in the borough of Enfield despite probably spending more time in the shops and cinemas down the road in Wood Green (in Haringey, as any fool knows) than I do in my own borough. However I am embarking upon a vague quest to be more of an active part of the community - this includes visiting the library, buying second-hand books in charity shops, and taking part in a 10K “fun run” in Enfield in a few weeks.
I also attended the Enfield Autumn Show on Sunday lunchtime. The place wasn’t exactly busy when I attended, and I felt rather sorry for the local schoolkid bands playing on the main stage in front of about five people, one of whom may only have been there because their wheelchair had got stuck. There was plenty of entertainment on offer, though - funfair rides and inflatable gubbins to keep kids entertained, punch and judy shows, entertainment all day on the main stage and a smaller “alfresco ballroom”, plus regular animal displays, dance performances, etc from local groups in the main arena.
Mixed in with this, slightly uncomfortably it has to be said, were the more traditional trappings you associate with local village fetes - animals to look at, flowers-arranging/vegetable-growing competitions, and a wide assortment of stalls set up by all the usual local community groups, council departments, charities and political parties (including some UKIP bloke running around dressed as St George - great!). I even took some photos:
All this brought back many fond childhood memories. I certainly remember being hugely excited on carnival day as a youngster, as much by the stalls and games on the school field where the parade finished up as by the parade itself. My hometown being rather small, us kids didn’t have many exciting things to do the other 364 days of the year. However, I also experienced twinges of sadness - not just that the show wasn’t particularly well-attended (maybe it was busier on Saturday), but at my own sense of disconnection from any sense of community spirit.
Shameful blasts of scorn also popped into my head, for it was tempting to dismiss this whole event as dismal and parochial - witness all the unwanted tat folk were putting up as tombola prizes, the mere handful of entries into each flower-arranging or veg-growing category, and the desperate efforts of the emcee to entice bored-looking girls into taking part in the street dance demonstrations.
But such an attitude would be entirely wrong, in my view. It’s too easy to dismiss town shows as second-rate entertainment when you’ve got the bright lights of London within touching distance. For millions of others around the country, this kind of thing is the lifeblood of their community - and more important is the existence of a community in the first place.
I’ve lived in London for nearly 8 years and have never felt like I really belong. Not in the sense that I hate being here, in fact quite the reverse - I love the fact that a seemingly infinite array of 24-hour entertainment options are right on my doorstep, even if I’ve barely scratched the surface in terms of experiencing everything the city has to offer. But there’s always been a huge disconnect in terms of where I’ve lived - every flat has effectively been a machine for living in, a place to stay within shooting distance of the hub of the metropolis where I work and prefer to go out. I’ve always said I could never live in South London, not because I have any ties whatsoever to the area I live in or its people, but purely because I’m familiar with it and that alone brings some sense of belonging. But not in the fullest sense of the word.
A real sense of community spirit is hard to find in a city. The fact that there are so many unattached young professionals in the same place and yet more people than ever are resorting to dating websites or singles nights to find prospective partners speaks volumes. I am living proof that it’s possible to live in a city and yet not really become part of any social group. Plenty of people have large circles of friends, of course, such as the lovely bunch of friends-of-friends I ended up spending time with last Friday and Saturday, but such groups tend to exist independently of their local community. They aren't playing an active role in its preservation and welfare, at any rate.
Still, part of me loves it here and I’m well aware of how lucky I am to be in a position to rent my own flat with plenty of disposable income to hand. Later on Sunday, I went to the Natural History Museum to catch the final day of its Deep Sea exhibition, then on to Leicester Square - still bustling even on a Sunday evening - for a few drinks and a cinema visit. You’d struggle to find such a hive of activity at that time in any small town, and yet it would be unthinkable to find so cold and impersonal a scene too. In an age where the entertainment industry and news media is so embarrassingly London-centric, it’s worth bearing this in mind.
God save the Village Green!
I also attended the Enfield Autumn Show on Sunday lunchtime. The place wasn’t exactly busy when I attended, and I felt rather sorry for the local schoolkid bands playing on the main stage in front of about five people, one of whom may only have been there because their wheelchair had got stuck. There was plenty of entertainment on offer, though - funfair rides and inflatable gubbins to keep kids entertained, punch and judy shows, entertainment all day on the main stage and a smaller “alfresco ballroom”, plus regular animal displays, dance performances, etc from local groups in the main arena.
Mixed in with this, slightly uncomfortably it has to be said, were the more traditional trappings you associate with local village fetes - animals to look at, flowers-arranging/vegetable-growing competitions, and a wide assortment of stalls set up by all the usual local community groups, council departments, charities and political parties (including some UKIP bloke running around dressed as St George - great!). I even took some photos:
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| Amusingly-shaped vegetables |
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| Look! Guinea pigs! |
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| Salvation army band |
All this brought back many fond childhood memories. I certainly remember being hugely excited on carnival day as a youngster, as much by the stalls and games on the school field where the parade finished up as by the parade itself. My hometown being rather small, us kids didn’t have many exciting things to do the other 364 days of the year. However, I also experienced twinges of sadness - not just that the show wasn’t particularly well-attended (maybe it was busier on Saturday), but at my own sense of disconnection from any sense of community spirit.
Shameful blasts of scorn also popped into my head, for it was tempting to dismiss this whole event as dismal and parochial - witness all the unwanted tat folk were putting up as tombola prizes, the mere handful of entries into each flower-arranging or veg-growing category, and the desperate efforts of the emcee to entice bored-looking girls into taking part in the street dance demonstrations.
But such an attitude would be entirely wrong, in my view. It’s too easy to dismiss town shows as second-rate entertainment when you’ve got the bright lights of London within touching distance. For millions of others around the country, this kind of thing is the lifeblood of their community - and more important is the existence of a community in the first place.
I’ve lived in London for nearly 8 years and have never felt like I really belong. Not in the sense that I hate being here, in fact quite the reverse - I love the fact that a seemingly infinite array of 24-hour entertainment options are right on my doorstep, even if I’ve barely scratched the surface in terms of experiencing everything the city has to offer. But there’s always been a huge disconnect in terms of where I’ve lived - every flat has effectively been a machine for living in, a place to stay within shooting distance of the hub of the metropolis where I work and prefer to go out. I’ve always said I could never live in South London, not because I have any ties whatsoever to the area I live in or its people, but purely because I’m familiar with it and that alone brings some sense of belonging. But not in the fullest sense of the word.
A real sense of community spirit is hard to find in a city. The fact that there are so many unattached young professionals in the same place and yet more people than ever are resorting to dating websites or singles nights to find prospective partners speaks volumes. I am living proof that it’s possible to live in a city and yet not really become part of any social group. Plenty of people have large circles of friends, of course, such as the lovely bunch of friends-of-friends I ended up spending time with last Friday and Saturday, but such groups tend to exist independently of their local community. They aren't playing an active role in its preservation and welfare, at any rate.
Still, part of me loves it here and I’m well aware of how lucky I am to be in a position to rent my own flat with plenty of disposable income to hand. Later on Sunday, I went to the Natural History Museum to catch the final day of its Deep Sea exhibition, then on to Leicester Square - still bustling even on a Sunday evening - for a few drinks and a cinema visit. You’d struggle to find such a hive of activity at that time in any small town, and yet it would be unthinkable to find so cold and impersonal a scene too. In an age where the entertainment industry and news media is so embarrassingly London-centric, it’s worth bearing this in mind.
God save the Village Green!
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