Right then, let me tell you how this whole hunt for the “best” arts and crafts festivals in England went down. Sounded simple enough, find some lovely local markets, snap pictures, have a cuppa, job done. Yeah, not quite.
Started off thinking I was clever. Headed straight for that big online travel forum everyone uses. Typed in “top UK arts and crafts festivals”. Thousands of results, right? Clicked the first few links feeling optimistic.
The Big Letdown Begins
First list I found? Absolute rubbish. Mostly massive events run by commercial outfits. Felt like walking into a factory outlet, not a proper local craftsman’s stall in sight. Plastic tat and mass-produced scarves pretending to be “handmade”. Packed with tourists. Proper soul-sucked feeling.
Struck that off the list fast.
Decided to dig deeper. Found a fancy “Heritage Crafts Association” site. Promising, yeah? Lists were ancient! Seriously. Clicked on one recommended festival in the Cotswolds. Drove an hour and a half only to find a sad field with three vendors selling… jam and second-hand books. The advertised “pottery master” was gone. Place was deserted. Felt like I’d wasted petrol chasing ghosts.
- Wasted fuel Chasing “experiences” from outdated lists.
- False advertising “Local potters” = someone selling old mugs.
- Crowd chaos Real gems buried under tourist hordes.
Getting Down & Dirty
Gave up on the internet giants. Time for old-school snooping. Started haunting village noticeboards whenever I passed through. Actual paper flyers stuck up with blue tack. You know the ones. Joined five different local Facebook groups for “craft lovers” and “makers”. Scrolled endlessly.
Started chatting up librarians. Popped into village shops and asked the lady behind the till, “Know any decent craft dos round here?” Took weeks! Slowly, bit by bit, scraps came in.
Word of mouth won out. Got tipped off about a tiny pottery fair near Stroud, inside an old church hall. Directions? “Turn left at the red postbox after the farm with the angry geese.” No listing anywhere. Rolled up, paid a quid entry. Proper stuff. Makers right there, spinning clay, chatting technique. Bought a mug from this guy called Keith whose hands were stained with the stuff. Felt genuine.
Found another one near Salisbury – a monthly textile market tucked behind the market square. Found it because a bloke in a cafe grumbled about the parking on “craft days”. Asked him when that was. Simple as that.
The kicker? All these “best” places weren’t shouting online. They existed quietly, for locals who knew where to look. The big, flashy, easily “discoverable” ones? Mostly overpriced chaos or straight-up defunct. Putting “top” in a list means nothing if the info is old or ignores the actual people making things. My conclusion? Skip the lists, ask a real person with dirty fingernails who actually lives there. That’s where the real crafts are hiding. Took me ages, petrol money, and a few cups of terrible tea to figure that out. Proper mission it was.
