It was the mother of all Diamond Jubilee parties. There was more going on in this Enchanted Village than anywhere else in the country.
Our street party rocked, and it all started with the arrival of a huge truck outside my house. The stage had arrived, courtesy of our former parish council chairman who just happens to run a construction company.
Afternoon tea in the sunshine, a parade of banners around the village, a patriotic playlist of God Save the Queen, Land of Hope and Glory, the Thunderbirds theme and Bernard Cribbins, plate smashing and vintage cars. A massive, grand hamper raffle, the presentation of the scarecrow competition prizes by the new vicar and the first reading of our very own poem, put together from lines supplied by villagers.
The pub ran out of beer and the barbecue ran out of burgers. There were hundreds and hundreds of people.
We even had a fly-past by a microlight.
Our very own Back Lane Band, with our former shopkeeper and Mr Prayer (who cuts the church grass) on guitars, cranked the party up a gear and had the crowds begging for more. The lead singer, in union jack dress, had everyone dancing in the street. We were rocking.
There were Irish jigs and revolutionary songs from Duff Paddy, rockets and a beacon on the allotments and a lively set from Gothic Chicken who renamed themselves Coronation Chicken for the weekend. The stage shook as they ended with their version of Fire.
And then Maddie G took to the decks with Born to be Wild and Hi Ho Silver Lining. As Oops Upside Your Head started up, people got down on the floor and began to row in a long, rhythmic line.
The crowd knew what to expect when the opening bars of YMCA came over the speakers. But they were wrong.
Marching up the steps to the stage was our very own Village People, featuring Mr Grigg as a naval officer, Mr Sheepwash as Bob the Builder, Mr Loggins with policeman's helmet, cape and truncheon, Putt Putter in referee regalia, Champagne-Charlie in full Indian headdress, Alan Ladd as a cowboy and MDF Man - eye-candy for the women in the audience - in hard hat, shorts and big boots.
They did an encore, mainly because I had the button on 'repeat' by mistake, and we danced the night away. All those secret evenings getting their routine spot-on had paid off. And wives suddenly realised why the menfolk had been spending rather too many nights at our house.
And then, with Elvis singing Can't Help Falling In Love ringing in our ears, it was time to re-open the road and get back to normal.
As we pulled the curtain back on the trailer, the wording on it suddenly seemed very appropriate.
Love Maddie x