This past week, a local town have been hosting their annual 'Folk Week'. The bloke and I got together during Folk Week and are both huge fans, as we have always taken the week off of work to enjoy it fully. Bands play, stall holders sell their wares, Morris dancers line the seafront and there is a general atmosphere of summer, relaxation and good company.
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We spend time with friends in beer gardens, getting up to dance with the boys when the folk bands play. We pop down to the beach and enjoy building sandcastles and paddling in the sea. We wander along taking in the magicians, jugglers, dancers and buskers and we most certainly indulge in some 'folk week fudge'.
We watch the parades, point out the hobby horses and feed our pennies to Clarence the dragon. We took Dylan's little bike and zoomed around the quiet roads, strengthening the little dude's legs after his break.
Once the little ones are safely tucked up in bed, we take it in turn to enjoy an evening out on the busy seafront, sitting outside with cider in plastic cups and catching up with friends old and new. Some nights we kept the boys out later, an evening picnic on the beach or in the park followed by live music at the bandstand until we are all ready to retire to our beds.
Dylan learn to walk again, and more importantly, learnt to dance again, loving the kids club put on every morning and the stick banging music. We spent every day out, as a family enjoying each others company and meeting up with friends.
Folk Week is our favourite week of the year, the atmosphere, the location, the familiarity, the smells, the sounds and of course the delicious fudge.
