Camp-bridge Folk

Camp-bridge Folk  (Festival)  Extracts from a letter to someone

I'm typing this cos holding a pen whilst writing and you being able to read that writing would be near impossible. My fingers are behaving like spoilt children. They're all over the place and won't do a thing I tell them! They start the day fairly orderly, folded over looking just like giant cornish pasties and then all hell breaks loose:).

Well I'm finally recovering from our camping adventure to Cambride Folk Festival. Oh, how we laughed when we tucked into our cosy, luxurious little tent on the first night! Well, not so cosy - it was freezing and I went to bed fully dressed with the very fetching addition of My Man's socks, not so luxurious - the ground was as lumpy as a teenager's acne'd face, but definitely little as our butler, (No. 1 Son) and maid, (No. 1 Son's ex-girlfriend) couldn't put up the larger tent we were supposed to be sleeping in! That one had an en-suite. Ok, not so much as an en-suite, more of a spare compartment where I was planning on using my especially bought wee-wee bags (recommended by Amazon buyers, no less) thereby, solving my public toilet phobia. Isn't it wonderful the stuff you can buy nowadays? You can also get poo bags, but I didn't primarily cos they are expensive, also cos Mark objected (probably because he'd be in charge of disposal), and I know the butler and maid would not have wanted to muck in. Honestly, staff these days. We did laugh though. On the first night. It's amazing what gin and tonic can do.

The bands on that night were brilliant and we danced ourselves silly. No, that can't be right. We were silly to start with. We did dance - a lot. I also tripped over some bags (that's my story), falling flat on my back. As I went down with my arms outstretched, I saw Mark, my new friend, the maid, the butler and Uncle Tom Cobbley an' all watching with grins as wide as a an alligator about to be fed. I laughed too. Well, it didn't hurt and if I can bring a smile to the faces of those around me it's worth it. I'm soooooo hardy and it's amazing what gin and tonic can do. Wink. Next morning I had the biggest, blackest bruise I've ever, ever seen in my whole, extremely short life!

Our camp was a bit of a distance from the main festival site so double-decker buses were laid on to take us back and forth with an organiser counting everyone boarding for upstairs. He'd safely got to about 32 and oh dear, I just couldn't resist it. " 88 two fat ladies" shouted Big Mouth Pauline, following that up with a couple more bingo calls. Before you could say "Oooone huuuunndred annnnnnnnnnd eighteeeeeee" (to mix the darts and bingo lingo), the whole bus joined in. It was very funny, albeit naughty. I think the bus driver enjoyed all the frivolity cos he took us for more than a ride - around a roundabout - several times! It's amazing what gin and tonic can do. He received a well- deserved round ......................................of applause.

Oh I must tell you about the person stood in front of us in the marquee. I say person cos I and the maid were confused for ages. Tall, slim, non-existent hips, V body but there were the sparkly earings, be-ribboned pony -tail, bling hairslides and plenty of make-up, eye-liner, nail varnish, the lot. It was Mark who pointed out the big feet. Then again I know plenty of women in size 8's (not me, I hasten to add,I'm a dainty 51/2) but the hands, the hands! Shovels! He could have been a grave-digger with those. What really gave the game away though, was the mass of grey, curly hairs on his neck.With Mark having the very same and me being an expert neck shaver ......... well, nuff said! Whatever floats yer boat.

So, a good time was had but I doubt we'll be doing it again. Not in a tent anyway. No matter how luxurious and no matter if I had my own private privvy! No matter how much gin and tonic.