A simple garden, with acres of sky

Although I took my camera along to Cropredy it spent most of its time in the tent so I took very few photos, with the result that I failed to preserve some interesting sights for posterity. During Yusuf’s performance I was too busy wringing my hands in ecstasy to have been able to do anything as technical as clicking a shutter! That was the absolute dream come true, and could only have been better if he’d done another couple of hours.

I missed the music on the first day due to a sudden attack of projectile vomiting (and no, I hadn’t had a lot to drink), so stayed back at the campsite, trying to correctly time the journeys between the tent and the portaloos. Mostly I got it right. With the wind coming from the arena field I heard most of the Buzzcocks who sounded okay (apparently the language and spitting startled a few parents of young children), as did Steve Winwood, though I’m told he was rather self-indulgent and ‘went on a bit’.

Next day I was feeling as though I might not die quite yet, so went on the annual “Let’s watch Andy fail to find a geocache” expedition. This year he excelled himself and managed to fail to find one he found last year. In the arena field, Ade Edmondson and the Bad Shepherds were very entertaining, performing punk songs in a folk way (guess the intro), apart from one famous folk song which was sung in a punk way. There had been a moment’s panic on the way to Cropredy when Ned suddenly realised he’d left his hat at home; anyone who knows him will realise what a disaster that is! So after that set Ned & I scoured the stalls for hats (all possible ones were too small) and eventually settled for a rag (“Don’t lose your rag.” “NO I BLOODY WON’T” etc) and he became known as ‘The lovely Yasmin’.

(photo courtesy of Stu).

It didn’t rain for Richard Thompson, and Seth Lakeman was great but the bass drum thingy hurt your chest if you were within 300 yards of the stage.

Saturday’s music was opened as usual by Richard Digance, whose set was very different to previous years, but thankfully the thousands who’d brought hankies along specially for the morris dance got to wave them at the end. Then I actually took some photos(!) of Nelly and Tammy talking to Mr D (a surprisingly big bloke close to) and getting his signature.


Then Ned and I shared a Goan fish curry ("Goan, Goan, Goan, you will, you will" etc) which was delicious and next year we'll have one each. After that we wandered around between campsite and arena and village (some people were a bit naughty and stayed in the pub a bit too long meaning that the supper got a bit overdone and we missed Nik Kershaw) but we saw most of Ralph McTell’s set and then it was the traditional emotional end with Fairport and guests. The all-too-brief performance by the wonderful Yusuf was the highlight, but the version of “Who knows where the time goes” and “Meet on the Ledge” brought a few more surreptitious tears because we all knew how close we came to not being a full complement this year. But Hutters and Mel stayed to the very end, for the first time! I think they enjoyed it (I told you there were fireworks!).

The only annoying occurence of the weekend was during Saturday night when the inhabitants of a nearby tent decided to have a special cuddle. Vocally. Again. And again. It didn't seem to cheer the female participant up very much - the next morning she had a face like a trod-on chip.

Other randomnesses:

1. On the towpath I saw an adult-sized tricycle padlocked to a unicycle. All the relevant parts for two bicycles.

2. Hutters went into the disabled portaloo so Mally and Tammy and I leaned against the door and only let him out when a genuinely disabled person needed to use it.

3. I learned a new rude word.

4. Hutters thoroughly enjoyed himself by winding up children with his laser-pen, and managed to avoid being arrested as a paedo.

5. When I got home I found a clothes-peg in my pocket.