Wisbech Rose Fair - East Anglia's Premier Flower Festival
 
 

© Wisbech Rose Fair and Andrew Wegg. Photographic images © Bruce Wegg and Andrew Wegg.

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East Anglia's Premier Flower Festival
In aid of St Peter & St Paul's Church, Wisbech

Rose Fair 2014

Wednesday 2nd July  to Sunday 6th July


  








Welcome to the Capital of the Fens and to one of the finest flower festivals in England.  Set in the unique Fenland landscape, the market town of Wisbech with its elegant Georgian architecture won 'Anglia in Bloom' Gold Awards from 2008 - 2012 and was judged best large town / small city in the Anglia region for 2011, 2012 and 2013.


During Rose Fair the whole town takes on a festive atmosphere, celebrating its horticultural heritage. The jewel in the crown is our magnificent church of St Peter & St Paul - which celebrated it's 900th anniversary in 2011 - and where this year's floral theme is 'I Know a Place'. It brings together traditional flowers and exotic blooms for a breathtaking display.


There are also floral displays in three other town centre churches, each with its own particular theme and character. So there are four flower festivals to visit in one go!


Rose Fair began in 1963 when local rose growers sold rose buds in the church gardens to raise funds for the restoration of the church, which dates back to Norman times. Rose growing is still a specialty of this area and the flower festival continues to raise money to maintain the fabric of the church.



A Poem for Rose Fair


This poem was inspired by the Rose Fair, an annual flower festival and parade that take place in the Fenland market town of Wisbech. It is based on the poet’s childhood memories of standing by the roadside, waiting for the parade to pass by. For more poetry and news from Leanne Moden, check out her blog www.tenyearstime.blogspot.co.uk


Carnival Cargo


I'm standing on Elm Road, perched on the kerb.  Feet arched into points to observe the ribbon of road before me.  I long to explore, but you implore me to listen.  Then, sure enough, I hear drums in the distance.


The crowd, now assembled, await the parade and a hush fills the air, like the rush of a wave.   I'm feeling brave; I catch hold of your hand, snatch a glimpse towards Dad and pull you forwards.


We stand in the gutter, with all of the rest, till the splutter of trumpets fills my heart in my chest.


The scene, once all grey, is now bright reds and greens.  On this day a school girl becomes a Rose Queen.  The marching band passes, the majorettes twirl, the dancers with ribbons are the best in the world.


And lorries, once laden with veg and sugar beet, now have carnival cargo to take through the streets.  These floats drifting past in a flurry of flags, steel drums are our soundtrack, and nothing can drag down the feeling of joy on this overcast day.


So we stand, hand in hand, as the samba beat plays.