The children from our local school (including my children) dance round the Maypole every year during our May Fair and every time I hear the familiar music start I marvel at this quintessentially English tradition.
It's almost like the children become timeless. Even the toughest boys and tomboyish girls happily don the traditional costumes and in front of thousands of people skip and dance round the Maypole.
It's particularly special I feel for our family. My husband's family has been in our village for hundreds of years- a local historian claims the name can be tracked back to the 15th century here. My husband wore bells and danced and so did his dad. Other family members who attended the village school reminisce about taking part too.
You can see my daughter, blonde hair flying, on the left of the picture. My son is the fair-haired boy looking up. I was very proud of their efforts on Monday- they are following in the footsteps of their big brothers and sister.
I'm also a bit sad that it's highly unlikely any future grandchildren will be able to attend the school as house prices are astronomical in this area. My youngest son might well be the last of our family to take his place at the end of a ribbon here.
