Grandad, the Grandkids and a Prize Marrow: One Family's Thirty Years of Pyle Autumn Festivals

Let's be honest: getting a British family in one place at the same time is a logistical achievement on par with organising the Commonwealth Games. Christmas requires negotiation. Weddings require a spreadsheet. But every October, without a single group chat argument, the Bevans of Pyle end up together in the same field, arguing about marrows.

They're at the autumn festival. They always are.

'It Started as an Excuse'

'It started as an excuse, really,' says Ken Bevan, 78, who has attended every Pyle autumn festival since the very first one. 'My late wife wanted to enter the jam competition. I wanted to look at the tractors. We went, we enjoyed it, and next year the kids came with their lot. And that was that.'

Ken is now on his fourth decade of festival-going and his eleventh year of entering vegetables in the produce competition. He has won Best Marrow twice. He will tell you about it within four minutes of meeting you.

The Grandchildren's Verdict

Down the generational line, daughter Rhian, 46, sees the festival differently. 'When the children were little, it was the pumpkin stall that hooked them. You'd spend a fortune — well, a fiver — and they'd each pick a pumpkin bigger than their head. Now they're teenagers and they come for the food vans and the caramel apples, and they pretend they're too cool for the pumpkin stall. They're not. I've seen them.'

Grandson Ieuan, 15, offers a more diplomatic account: 'It's just a good day, isn't it? You see everyone. Like, everyone. Your nan's friends, your old teachers, the bloke who coached your rugby. You can't go two stalls without stopping for a chat.'

A Reunion Without the Fuss

That, I'd argue, is the quiet genius of our seasonal festivals. Somewhere along the way, they've become the modern village family gathering — the event that requires no host, no cooking, and no one pretending to enjoy sprouts. The market stalls do the catering. The produce tent does the entertainment. The field does the hosting.

There's a rhythm to it, too. You arrive, you gravitate to the pumpkin stall, you end up at the produce tent to see whether Ken's marrow has placed, and you finish with hot drinks watching the kids run off the last of their energy. Nobody plans it. It just happens. Every year.

Make It Yours This Autumn

This year's festival promises all the usual comforts: the pumpkin stall, the produce competition, the craft tables, and enough caramel apples to worry a dentist. If your family is scattered across weekends and work rotas, consider this your invitation to start a tradition of your own.

Pick a meeting point. The pumpkin stall is traditional — just ask the Bevans.

And if you fancy your chances against Ken in the marrow category, know that he takes it very seriously, and so should you.