Relaxing with Otters

Current mood: dizzy

Huge disappointment faced me when I arrived back in Devon for Beautiful Days. I was promised Martha Wainwright, but there was no Martha, where could Martha be, what did you do with Martha? After my Martha-blues were washed away by a torrent of sky-water I drowned my remaining sorrows with the lovely Otter ale and a game of Bollywood top trumps, hoorah! Thereafter my life followed a pattern of folky drunken fun during the day and mindless spiegel tent flail-dancing by night, this lasted a mere 3 days until I was brought, kicking and screaming, from the comforting womb of festivaldom into the sterile, yet blood splattered delivery room of real life.

Things that were poo:
children that make noise in the mornings;
children that run around with no sense of direction;
children that cry for no reason;
children that cry for a reason;
children that are evil;
children who appear not to be evil, they're not fooling me.
Things that were groovy:
the Levellers, obviously;
secret gigs at the bimble inn;
the Demon Barber Roadshow, complete with morris, clog and rapper dancing genius;
Julie Fowlis and her unintelligible throat;
Dylan Moran in a very squished and numb-bummy tent;
Tiny Tea Tent tea;
Seth Lakeman and his bizarre furry helmet & horns mask.

In fact yesterday, I managed to catch Seth Lakeman as he whores himself round the various HMVs of this land. He played an impressively unamplified, but annoyingly short set, though I can't complain too much as it was free and I got an extra CD signed for a mate on a beer's commission. And finally... for the first time in a while I returned with a festival cold (a little too much moshing with the unwashed, perchance) and I have been snotting blood out of my face for the last few days...because I'm worth it.


Currently listening : Mouth to Mouth By The Levellers