Last Sunday 15th June 2014 was national Street Feast day. Local communities and groups coming together for a couple of hours one Sunday afternoon as a way of reconnecting in a fun and relaxing way with their immediate neighbours.

We are all guilty of it I am sure. Too busy and caught up in the hurly burly of every day life to stop and chat with our neighbours for very long. It never used to be this way, if we are to believe the stories of the older generations; and if so, why and when did it all change and, more importantly, why did we let the change happen?

I am not a native to the village that I live in. The poetic Irish term for this is “blow-in”. I happen to like this description of my origins as this makes me sound like a wandering traveller from far distant lands. I’m not; I’m from Bristol, but I still like to hold onto this romantic vision. However, when you are not originally from a place it can be difficult to connect with the people around you, and as we get older it becomes more difficult to make new friends and connections that have some kind of permanency about them.

I heard about Street Feast three years ago but, despite my experience of organising events, I felt too daunted by the prospect of putting myself out there to talk to people I didn’t know about this event and get the interest up. I was shy. And I got stage fright. Fast forward three years later, and via a friend, Street Feast came into my consciousness again. My next door neighbour (a fellow “foreigner”) also said she would like to get involved. Afterall, seven years in the village and she knew just a very small handful of people.

We gave ourselves two months to organise the event, which in typical West Cork fashion, meant we got everything sorted in the last two weeks – nothing like an impending deadline to give you a kick up the backside!

We spent almost nothing. Everything was donated or loaned: tables, brighly coloured oil cloths; chairs, gazebo’s, first aid kits; hand sanitizer; plastic cups, cutlery and plates; traffic cones, bunting and balloons. The DJ lent us his time and his kit for free. Everyone brought their own BBQ for our BYOBBQ Zone. We had a kids play area. And, most importantly, everyone brought something to eat, drink and to share.

Is it not a truth universally acknowledged that nothing brings people together more than food? Food and drink? Food, Drink and Fire (especially Fire if you are a man; with a beer in hand).

The range of food on offer was exceptional. Everyone went to such effort bringing homemade cakes, pastries, pizza’s; beautifully marinaded chicken; sausages, burgers; fresh bread and zesty salads. It was a delight to see that there was such effort given to the preparation of the food to share. Care and attention; wanting to provide something tasty and enjoyable. The power of our sense of taste is undeniable – if our mouths are happy then so are we; and so we chat and we make friends and arrange play dates for the kids and schedule a night to pop round with a bottle of wine and a catch up.

 

In the end, it wasn’t so difficult afterall. We made time for each other, and the rest followed naturally. Everyone wants the Street Feast to return next year; and more events during the year for the benefit of the people in the village too.

“Why didn’t we do this sooner?” “This was a great idea!” “I didn’t know what to expect, but I love it!” “This is what the community needs.”

And that was how the sleepy village of Ballygurteen woke itself up again one sunny, happy Sunday afternoon.