Some of the neighbours aria annoyed and some are overjoyed by the presence of the opera in Garsington Manor's garden. Chief feature writer George Frew reports

Every year, before the fat lady even opens her mouth to begin singing at Garsington Opera, the grumbling overture of discontent can be clearly heard.

But not as clearly as some of the residents - who totally oppose the event - say they can hear the intrusive arias which, they claim, shatter their peace and preclude the likelihood of an idyllic summer evening in the gardens of their charming homes.

Garsington Opera is the village's annual cultural showpiece, with a run of 23 perfomances of some of the world's greatest operas hung like a string of stars over this leafy corner of South Oxfordshire, between June, when rehearsals start, and July. The event also provides a platform for young, established and rising singers and has done so for the past 17 years of its existence.

The opera is the creation of Leonard Ingrams, merchant banker by profession and owner of the village's ancient manor house. The performances take place essentially in what is Mr Ingrams's back garden and it is its close proximity to the houses nearby which has sparked the howls of protest in years gone by.

Amoy and Joe Lowe's beautiful beamed and brick dwelling is far enough away from the divas and their decibels to permit them some objectivity, in terms of Mr Ingrams and his annual temple of high art.

Yet although Mrs Lowe will freely tell you that she is a lover of grand opera, she will swiftly add that she is no admirer of Mr Ingrams. The Lowes raised two sons in Garsington and remain "very active" in the ongoing saga of the yearly operatic static.

"It's the people who live next door I feel sorry for. This has divided the village and I would say that of the 2,500 villagers a third are still very much against this noise.

"A lot of people are indifferent, of course. I love opera personally, but would not go here in principle. I helped teach Mr Ingrams' children as an infant helper at the local school and I like his wife, Rosalind, but if I had lived next door to the Manor, I'd have been gone from this village by now. The man seems to be a law unto himself. And he seems to have too many big guns." Of course, the Garsington protests are well-documented and almost the stuff of legend. There was the year when the allegro movement of the ensemble of protest lawnmowers threatened to drown out the performance, or at least to put a dent in its potential enjoyment.

After all, how can you thrill to the nuances of Mozart's Magic Flute when your ears are being buzzed by the Slow Movement of The Flymo Quartet?

How indeed can one not experience one's personal Gotterdammerung when a light aircraft is buzzing the performance?

However, not all of the villagers think that Leonard Ingrams is wrong to use his back garden for opera.

Mrs Lulu Belcher, for example, is the church warden of St Mary's, a place of worship set among rural bliss. A little piece of heaven on earth, in fact. Housemartins sweep under its eaves, the heavy old headstones with their ancient descriptions soak up the sun and Mrs Belcher has equally steadfast views on the affair. "Maybe there is a third of the village still opposed to the OPEra but personally, from where I live, I can't hear a thing," she says.

"I think the event is good for the life of the village and I don't know why some people complain. The performances finish at 10pm and when you leave the car park, you are always asked to turn right out of the village down to the Watlington Road.

"I've lived here for 35 years and the protests were a shame, because they brought Garsington into the news with so much adverse publicity. The only people I would feel sorry for are perhaps people who live in the cottages across the road from the Manor and who have small children.

"I can't say I know Mr Ingrams well, but he has always been polite and friendly to me."

There seems little chance that Leonard Ingrams will ever see eye to eye with Monica Wadd, who remains the chief protest thorn in his side. Unfortunately, Miss Wadd was unavailable for comment as this piece was being written, but a fellow sympathiser told this newspaper: "The people who are against the opera will all tell you the same thing." Mr Ingrams himself appeared to regard the protest as little more than an irritating piece of fluff on his well-cut lapels. "There is only really one objector left now -and that is Miss Wadd. These days that is a very small percentage," he says in clipped, measured tones.

"It's old hat and we've had the noise measured and it is within official guidelines. The council has tried to prosecute me twice -and has lost both times."

It is hard not to detect a note of hard smugness in Leonard Ingrams' voice.

It may be harder yet to detect a note of conciliation between Garsington's unhappy factions.

One way or another, it'll be a long time before the fat lady brings the curtain down on this one.