By Emma Clayton

There was something delightfully English about watching a troupe of WI ladies in polka dot bathing costumes dancing around a park on Sunday afternoon.

Sporting 1950s swimwear, with floral caps and retro headscarves, they performed a fabulous 'dry synchronised swimming' routine celebrating the centenary of the Women's Institute.

As the sun shone and the opening notes of Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy filled the air, dozens of women, aged from early 20s to 70-something, sprung into action, watched by cheering crowds.

Standing among the crowds, I could feel myself going red. "This is the sort of thing I'd wake up in a panic about, like those dreams when you're on the bus and realise you're naked," I muttered.

But within moments I was swept up in the loveliness of it. It was an impressive routine, and the women moved like swans. There was a sense of euphoria afterwards, as bottles of Prosecco popped and picnic baskets sprung open. "I loved it!" grinned a friend who took part. "I'm glad my sons refused to come though. They'd be mortified."

The camaraderie and fun of the on-land synchronised swim was a fitting tribute to the WI. I thought of my mum, a longterm WI enthusiast, and the fancy-dress floats and shows she enjoyed with her branch.

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Every Monday evening she headed off to WI, armed with bagfuls of fabric, paint pots, pipe cleaners and rolls of paper which would be turned into anything from themed hats to miniature beach scenes on tea trays. I never really knew what went on at WI, but there was a lot of laughter when those women got together. They organised concerts, craft fairs, quiz nights and trips. WI was a huge part of my mum's life, right from being a young wife, and provided a strong circle of friendship.

My gran was also a staunch WI member and attended national federation conferences. With all that Jam and Jerusalem in my blood, I sometimes feel a little sad that it's never been part of my own life. It always seemed a bit Middle England, I guess; something for women who go to coffee mornings and wear flour-stained pinnies.

The reality, of course, is that the WI is a tour-de-force, as Tony Blair discovered when he was slow hand-clapped by members at their AGM. The movement has a history of social campaigning, dating back to supporting women's suffrage. Today it lobbies the Government on such issues as mental health treatment, genital mutilation, global poverty, food waste, the homeless and legalising prostitution.

In recent years funky new WI branches have sprung up, from the Shoreditch Sisters to the Baildon Belles, with members throwing themselves into such activities as burlesque dancing, archery, clothes swaps and vodka-making as well as more traditional pursuits like baking and handicrafts.

The Rylstone and District WI put the organisation under the global spotlight when they bared all for a cheeky calendar which went on to raise more than £4 million for Leukaemia Research and inspired the Calendar Girls film, play and soon-to-be-opened musical. Now a new generation of women are discovering the benefits of belonging to the UK’s largest female organisation.

The WI means different things to different people, but at its heart it offers women friendship, fun and the opportunity to make their voice heard.

Happy 100th birthday, WI, and long may you continue.