Any excuse for a festival!

I am writing this article outside, sitting at our wooden table under a bright blue sky and a canopy of lime trees; the green leaves hardly moving. Just across from here standing in a field, I can see our three horses and a pony – young, black, frisky Ruby and her more staid sisters, Susie and Xispa. Català, the pony, stands sturdily apart in his maleness. This is truly a glorious season as Robert Herrick, the poet (1591–1674), sang in the seventeenth century:

I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers, 

Of April, May, of June, and July flowers. 

I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes, 

Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes. 

Very little changes in the countryside!

July is rich in festivals. As one might expect, words and their origins, fascinate me. ‘Fest' as one might also expect, refers to the Old French (derived from Latin), the saying ‘eat, drink and be merry', but generally, ‘fest' means a gathering of people together with a common interest, be it flowers, books, music of all kinds, dancing and often an annual event. It is truly said that ‘Catalans like any excuse for a celebration'!

I went to such a gathering last night. One couldn't say it was a festival; it was too small for that, just honouring the cooking in the tiny village near me. There were all ages, with children running excitedly about and teen-agers waiting to start eating. The cooks were mostly grandmothers showing their plats and explaining the ingredients in detail. Each dish was applauded, especially the one prepared by the only male cook – a Madrileño who has made his home in our village.