The band had stopped. Perhaps the group went to wet their whistles after playing their repertoire of old favourites (including “You are my Sunshine, my Only Sunshine”) – you know the sort of thing that people expect, and love to hear, when attending village fetes. Suddenly some different music – not the type you would necessarily expect at a country fete – surprised the visitors and villagers gathered on Mamhead green.

“Hello,” I said to myself, “that sounds like belly dancing music!” (I used to go to classes years ago so I should know.)

I and probably everyone else at the fete turned towards the bandstand as three ladies in voluminous skirts and big bras like metal sculptures (worn on the outside over their tops – in superhero fashion) made a grand entrance onto the grass arena. For some unknown reason to me I fancied the belles had stepped out of a Bulgarian comic opera. I wondered if they were going to sing but they remained tight-lipped and serious as they treated us to a most unusual and entertaining routine of belly dancing.

The belles looked like no other belly dancers I had ever seen before (or will again, no doubt). They were tall and they were grand (in the French sense); they weren’t young or exactly beautiful but they were stunning in their own particular way. A little girl from the audience was mesmerised, as you can see from my photographs…