It all comes round again

Hi kids, we're home! We went to Cropredy. It was fabuloso.

Steeleye Span was just brilliant. I’ve wanted to see them live for about a zillion years and I wasn’t disappointed. Happy 59th birthday for tomorrow, Maddy Prior; your voice is still as stunning as ever. I missed the music during Friday because I had to go to work, but got back to the site in time for supper then to go and see 10CC who were incredible. Hit after hit after hit, from Graham Gouldman’s 60s tracks recorded by the Hollies and The Yardbirds etc, to 10CC stuff, both before and after the split with Godley and Crème. Cracking.

It was on Friday night I learned I had more children than I’d realised, when someone called Benjamin called at the Blogring Manor (Mal and Maddy, Lorry and Kronky and Ned and I were all camped together, with a gazebo in the middle so it was very sociable) first asking if we had any ice for his sister then offered to sell us some jam, and sat down (“Is this your dad’s chair?”) when Ned had gone off to the loo; he then said perhaps he shouldn't talk about jam in front of 'your mum' – meaning me. Hmmm. I was known as Mum by all for the rest of the weekend. I’ve been called worse!

Saturday saw Dave Swarbrick’s return to the stage after his double lung transplant (he calls his band Lazarus) and the premature (in 1999!) publication in the Telegraph of his glowing obituary. (He was in hospital in Coventry when he read it. Apparently his reaction was “Ah well. It’s not the first time I’ve died in Coventry.”)

The weather was pretty rubbish on both Friday night and Saturday night, and Fairport’s Saturday set was more suited for a warm, mellow evening; the sunset had been so promising.
Great sounds but not jiggy enough to help people keep warm. But it was good, and I got a few hours of ‘travelling’ – getting into that mental state where you’re not quite awake, and not asleep, and your mind forgets all the issues that have been worrying you for so long. All without the use of any substances, either legal or illegal! There was an annoying group of yoofs very close by (William Anker, Tom Osser, Richard Head, Charlie Unt and Paul Ratt) who would be greatly improved if they were disembowelled. They either lurched off after an hour or so or shut up. They weren’t missed. And Lorry had made some lovely gloopy splotty stuff which was perfect for warming our frozed insides when we got back to the homestead at the end of the evening, and the rain started to chuck down.

It wasn’t as good as previous years – it was the first time we’ve preferred the earlier evenings’ music to the final evening. But I wouldn’t have missed it. Who’s coming along next year?

'King Mally appeared to fall off his chair before even bothering to unfold it this year.