Boomtown

Final safety checks in Barrio Loco.

Another weekend, another festival.  This has a somewhat intimidating reputation, something like the most hardcore dance areas of Glastonbury expanded to make an entire festival, this and the pretty awful weather forecast means I'm feeling a little doubtful when I turn up.  It's a short ride from my parents anyway, and can't complain about the Oxfam marquee containing a real ale bar.  Still feel like getting out of the site on the Thursday morning though, so I go for a wander as far as Twyford and get a pub lunch.  Pleasant country here on the South Downs, not far from Winchester in fact.  Getting back I am due on shift, which turns out to be guarding exits on the Poco Loco, in the downtown area - all dance music here.  At least in Poco Loco there are live acts, and while it (rap?  hip-hop?) isn't really my cup of tea it is still cool.  In fact the shift goes pretty fast, shame that when I finish at midnight, all the music does too.  Not least I am starting to get the feeling there is some pretty good stuff going on around here...

The Jolly Dodger.  Yaaaar!

Friday, and I have the whole day free, well, except for having to go on shift back in the Poco Loco at midnight, until 8am.  Trying to put that out of my mind I wander the site, and what I find is really rather awesome.  The festival consists of a large number of little themed regions, for instance there is one part where uniformed figures patrol and subject the revellers to searches and authoritative notices warn of dire punishments, though of course it is all a hastily constructed facade - but enough of the drug policy enforcement at the entrance.  There is also a Wild West town, an Aztec temple, Chinatown, a South American barrio, the dystopian future of DSTRKT 5, and many more.  All the areas have a one or more main stages, plus numerous little venues often accessed through quirkily designed fronts, appearing to be anything from a post office or job centre to a saloon, brothel or who knows what.  I spend a lot of time at the pirate ship - the Jolly Dodger - and also the Old Mine, the Town Centre, and the Rusty Spur.  Shame I can't really drink other than a few pints at lunch, and the less said about the all night stewarding shift the better.

An actual band.  Jellycats I think.

After a few hours sleep on Saturday morning I venture out again, there is so much music here it is hard to stay in one place long, so I don't really get a handle on the bands I watch.  A lot of them though... while it is mainly dance music here, of many varieties, there is a lot of live stuff too, plenty of Gypsy, Klezmer, Ska, Punk, anything you can dance to really.  I jump up and down with a big grin on my face, and I do remember a few names, La Pegatina, Jellycats, Flogging Molly, Formidable Vegetable Soundsystem!  To finish the evening I watch the pirate ship circus which is rather excellent, trapeze wenches, a live band accompaniment and a fire, fireworks and cannon show to finish as the pirates fight their way into the old town of Boomtown.  Can't really make this a late one though as I am on shift again at 7.45am on Sunday.

Rather than back at the Poco Loco, my Sunday shift is listed as 'response' - basically means I have to cover if the stewarding team is short in any way.  This turns out to mean I get promoted to supervisor when one of the guys doesn't turn up... OK, I can do this.  In a rather cool combination of festival stewarding and long distance hiking, I actually walk along the South Downs Way to get to my shift location, turns out I'm responsible for a vehicle crossing point and one of the 'forest parties'.  It is nice to be walking around rather than stuck in one place, and I manage to remember all of my team's names and get their breaks in at reasonable times.  It is a little stressful though, dealing with security who seem to have pretty high expectations of us stewards, when after all we're just untrained volunteers.  Still I get through it, sleep deprived though I may be, feel just a bit tired when I finish the shift though.  Only have a little lie down though, there is a festival happening after all.  I watch the pirate circus again, seems it is a bit earlier today.  Gradually feel a bit better thanks to the healing power of wine, and by midnight I'm dancing around to the cowpunk sound of Pronghorn with my big grin back on.  I get to do this every week!

With my supervisor tabard on.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Boardmasters

Burgh Island, and 'the contraption' crossing over to the mainland.

The next festival keeps me on the South West Coast Path, but quite a way along it, Boardmasters being just outside Newquay.  A long way to ride even from Dorset, so instead I stop for a night at Bigbury-on-Sea, scene of many a happy childhood holiday.  Can't complain about £6 for a night's camping, and I get my fill of nostalgia by taking the hydraulic sea tractor - or, as it'll always be to me, 'the contraption' - over to Burgh Island (pronounced 'burr').  Lunch in the Pilchard Inn, then as the tide has gone out I can walk back to the mainland, pack up and ride to Newquay in time for the steward briefing, after which I manage to get to Porth for a beer or two.

Boardmasters camping filling up.  The wind turbine is where Oxfam were camped, yay.

Wednesday, and my shift handing out wristbands goes smoothly enough, nice to have some useful work to do at least, not that it is too busy this early in the week.  Finishing at 4pm means I can get into Newquay itself, which is pretty quiet midweek, still I have a few beers, a pasty, find some live music and even have a little dance.  It is a long walk back though.  More wristbands on Thursday, this time 4pm 'til midnight, so in the morning I wander down to Porth and along Trevelgue Head, interesting place, site of an Iron Age cliff castle apparently.  I get some cans from the nearby(ish) Tesco express before getting on with work.  Wow, there is an awful lot of booze getting confiscated from the teenage festival goers.  Really didn't need to buy any...

Some Cornish coastline, including Padstow lifeboat station.

Friday, and I have the day off, so believe it or not I go for a walk.  Bus to Padstow and then the Coast Path back to the festival site, really not far as the crow flies.  Seems the path is a bit flatter here, indeed quite often it is along the beach, but, it does really make an effort to follow the coastline, faithfully sticking to the line of every inlet and headline.  This makes for a very long walk back, and it is 8pm before I reach the festival, just in time for Everything Everything on the main stage.  They're pretty good, but the crowd is entirely made up of teenagers... I'm sure they're individually lovely, but en masse they are hard to take.  I retreat to the 'Land of Saints', where there is a pub!  The 'Keg and Pasty' has, well, beer and pasties, but also a stage with music more likely to appeal to grown ups.  Such as the entertaining Lounge Kittens... I also wander over to the nearby acoustic stage, where me and a small number of others brave freezing winds to watch the charming Laura Doggett.

Saturday, still no work so I wander the festival site a bit, check out a few bands (Mahalia, the Alibis) over the course of the day, but decide to get away from the teenagers for the evening and spend it in Newquay instead.  The crowds of hen and stag parties are as entertaining as ever... Then on Sunday I am back to work at 6pm, so, I have the day free, might as well do a bit of surfing.  Turns out I'm still not very good at it, but never mind.  Work passes swiftly enough, I variously shout at the drunken revellers though a megaphone, or gesticulate air hostess style while somebody else shouts.  All good fun.  As was this festival really, though I'm not sure I'd pay to come here, drunken teenagers have a limited appeal to be honest.  Anyway, back to Surrey for a rest - wow that is a long way to ride.

Cowabunga!

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Camp Bestival

Classic telephone box at Tyneham.

Another Wednesday, time to rock up at another festival site, this one at Lulworth Castle in Dorset.  Crew camping is ideally placed next to a pub, so after the Oxfam briefing I sink a few pints, there is even a band, named 4GoMad.  I get the reference.  No work and not much festival on Thursday so off for a walk of course.  Just a mile or so to the sea, but on the way I find Tyneham, the 'village that died for D-Day'.  Fascinating to see the ruined houses, evacuated in 1943, and the restored church, schoolhouse and farm.  From here I walk through the Lulworth Range, plenty of evidence of ongoing military activity here, wrecked tanks litter the landscape.  On to the charming Lulworth Cove where I eat a truly huge pasty, and then need a lie down.  My route has followed the South West Coast Path, and it is clearly a tough one, climbing one cliff after another from sea level.  I leave it at Durdle Door, a rock arch eroded from the cliff between two bays, from here it isn't too far back to the pub.  Oh and the campsite.

Durdle Door.

There is a festival on of course... and I have work to do.  I start my shift at 8am on Friday, patrolling the kids fields which make up around half of this most child friendly of festivals, and it really isn't much work.  Mainly we give directions, enjoy the sunshine and listen to music at various venues dotted around.  Then I have 4pm on to myself, more music then, seems to be a bit punk here, Buzzcocks are on for instance.  I find my home for the festival at the Caravanserai, there is gypsy music as you'd expect, and the rather good Immigrant Swing.

A job suited to my skills.

Saturday, and my shift doesn't start 'til 4pm, so I have a lie in then head back to Durdle Door, I've been told you can swim through the arch, round the headland to a different cove.  Turns out you can - it is pretty hard work though.  Then back on shift, the kids field again, seems I can magically reunite parents with children merely by starting the process of reporting the situation over the radio.  Then a few hours on an arena, yay.  Seems that from 7pm the main kids arena does 16+ comedy, it is rather cool, and very rude.  I get off at midnight, time for a few beers, and back to the Caravanserai for steampunk shenanigans with The Men Who Will Not Be Blamed For Nothing.  I had forgotten how metal they are...

Dolly the giraffe.

Same shift again on Sunday, so, I spend the morning wandering the site, and lying down a fair bit.  I eat a sausage and raclette baguette from the thoroughly middle class food court, then back to work.  Still the kids field, but today mostly on a gate, so I get to watch the festival go by, this includes among other things a giraffe and a velociraptor (both life sized puppets), Bob Geldof (probably not a puppet) and a most impressive parade.  Then off to the castle, where us stewards get the best seats for the rather awesome festival closing fireworks.  And still time to get to the Caravanserai for more familiar faces, the Guns of Navarone.

Well... this was really good fun, a lovely part of the world and a great festival, somehow the kiddiness of it adds up to a really great atmosphere.  Certainly recommended to anybody with children.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Tramlines

Ghostpoet.

Third festival of the summer then, and the first at which I am working, as a steward with Oxfam.  Tramlines is a bit different in that rather than a country park or farm, it takes place in and around a city, namely Sheffield.  A good chance to stay with Chris rather than in a tent then - seems he has recovered from the bug that kept him from Latitude.  Still, I ride to the Oxfam campsite and put up my tent anyway, would be nice to go there for their BBQ this evening.  Then off to the main stage, in the 'Ponderosa', a large park a mile or two out of the city centre, for the steward briefing, not long after which the music starts.  First up is Ghostpoet, pretty good as poetry recital set to music goes.  And then Slaves, it may not be as cool here as the Shangri Hell stage but they're still good.  Drummer / vocalist loses his hat while crowdsurfing, then I pop backstage to congratulate him on the set.  As you do.  Turns out there is no bus to get back to the campsite so I pass on the social and meet up with Chris instead.  Watch some music in the Cathedral, where there is also a bar, pretty cool.

The peace gardens.

Saturday, and I have to work, at first this means handing out skiffs in the peace gardens while various bands play, I can handle this.  But in the evening I get the fun job of persuading drunken festival goers not to throw themselves in front of cars as I man a road crossing, this is kind of hard work.  Still I get through it without anybody getting injured, finish at 8pm in time to march to the Ponderosa and back (have to go there to sign out, annoyingly), then to the Harley for the delightful Billie Black, and then to the Cathedral for Marika Hackman, her rather dark folky sound goes very well here.  And yes, I do seem to end up seeing the same acts multiple times.

Sunday, and this time my shift goes from 2pm 'til 10pm, really not getting any music today, barring what I can hear while standing by a pedestrian crossing and pushing the button.  I am at least prepared for the rain, and it all goes quickly enough, pleasant company with my fellow stewards and all that.  Highlight of the day is a free pie I get in my break by virtue of being a festival worker :)

Trig point on Win Hill.

Of course I can't visit Sheffield without getting in a visit to Edale, so on Monday I take a pretty direct twenty mile walk there.  The route out of Sheffield up Porter Brook is still pleasant, then I head over moorland - including a knee deep plunge into a peat bog - to Hathersage.  From there it is a stiff climb up and down Win Hill to get to Edale, where I meet Chris - he has been at work, poor thing - for a few beers and a pub dinner.  All good... right, next up, Camp Bestival.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Leaving London, and Latitude.

All the sheep are pink this year.

So, this blog might get a bit more prolific from now on.  I've quit my job, and plan to subsist on the income from my evil property empire as I travel around.  First of all, various festivals of which the first, not counting Glastonbury, is Latitude.  I plan to get there on the Thursday, but... turns out leaving home is tricky.  The last minute tasks mount up, my bike doesn't want to go, splits a fuel hose and spews petrol everywhere, in the end I don't fancy putting my tent up in the dark so instead, a last few beers in South London.  Chris isn't getting to the festival until tomorrow anyway.

Relaxing in the house.

Modern dance.

Friday... lock the door and post the keys through the letterbox, I'm really gone.  A three hour ride to the Suffolk coast, have to visit Dunwich on the way, and get a cup of tea by the sea.  This is what retired people do yes?  Then off to the festival.  Bit different to Glastonbury, such clean, many seating, wow.  Chris is ill, guess I am on my own for the weekend.  Music at the Lake Stage with Honne, very young crowd.  Briefly endure some right on comedy - look how the patriarchy makes you pay for tampons eh sisters.  To the main stage - the Obelisk Arena - where Santigold hand out donuts and dance a lot.  Stage two - the BBC6 Stage - and Public Serviice Broadcasting have new stuff, is good.  But the cool stuff here is in the woods, such as the poorly named iArena where I watch The Pains of Being Pure at Heart.  Then to round off the day, Keith Allen's Establishment Club.  I had a beer or two with him once, don't think he remembers.  Good music though.

Saturday.  Lovely weather, good for a wander about.  Random Shakespeare / Choral mashup in the woods, then some string quartet plus rap on the Waterfront Stage by the lake.  Quite hot, grab some shade in the literary tent, brain surgeon is discussing his memoirs.  Hour long queue for swimming in the lake, well, been there, done that.  To the iArena for Marika Hackman and then the Twilight Sad, before finding some comedy... watch a sketch in which a man mimes a sequence running from buying a pint to descending to hell and ripping the devil's cock off, as you do.  Then stand up from David O'Doherty, rather good.  All blurring into one a bit, I eschew the main stages, Oscar and Prides on the Lake Stage, random stuff on small stages in the wood.  Even find a proper mosh pit!

Nice of them to write a song about my motorbike problems.  Or perhaps it was an oldie.

Sunday, wander down to the main stage where that TV 'choir' thing is on plus a hundred or so random festival-goers.  It is so middle class here.  Feeling a bit music'd out, sunbathe and read for a bit instead.  Modern dance on the Waterfront - seems to be mainly people pushing steel frames around.  The Boomtown Rats are rather fun - Bob Geldof looks like James May's alcoholic brother.  He does realise they're not very good yeah?  No queue for swimming today so I go for it - man I am out of condition.  Now a band I actually want to see - the Manic Street Preachers, a good if short set.  And that is about it... not too fussed about Noel Gallagher, but I find a couple of late night (ish) bands at the iArena.  And a brief stop at the Establishment Club, where a left wing poet is describing her Mills & Boon fantasy relationship with former UKIP MEP Godfrey Bloom.  And why not.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Glastonbury 2015

So, my tenth GLASTONBURY, probably should write something.  Not least, maybe if I write down stuff I saw now, I'll at least have some record rather than relying on my memory.  Given the sheer scale of the festival though, this entry will eschew my usual narrative 'style' and be more like a stream of consciousness / list of bands.

Wednesday then.  Arrive mid afternoon, what do you mean the festival doesn't start until Friday?  Meet up with Chris, camp up, wander down through Silver Hayes and on to the Green Fields, already stuff going on here.  Still setting up in Shangri-La, random brass band wandering about, cider from Bez's Acid Lounge.  Full evening of music in the Rocket Lounge!  Country from the Jolenes, then much JUMPING AROUND to the Guns of Navarone, Pronghorn and Gentleman George.

Above the Park.

Thursday!  A nice sunny day, we grab a paper and lounge in the sun above the Park.  Stroll through the circus field, football with the players encased in GIANT BALLS. The real ale bar is open!  Pasties from the cheap(ish) bakery, then to Williams Green for the Circa Waves, popular with the youth it seems.  Shangri-La again, freaky political themed stuff is there to be looked at, also John Fairhurst on the Shangri Hell stage.  More Rocket Lounge, the Men Who Will Not Be Blamed For Nothing sing of Victoriana and the DARK ELDER GOD CTHULU!  Tentwards via Silver Hayes, will there be stuff worth seeing in the dance area?  Hell yes, into the Pussy Parlure Noveau for Taiwanese pop from Waa Wei, then some Korean Electro Grunge from Juck Juck Grunzie.

Juck Juck Grunzie.

Friday?  Actual bands people may have heard of.  The surprise starting act on the Other Stage are The Charlatans.  Back to Silver Hayes, really I've never spent so much time among the dance stages.  Watch a Maori Haka at the Gully, and there is music here too... and yes it is Korean again, folky songs from Gonne Choi, and oh look, the lead singer of Juck Juck Grunzie still hasn't found her clothes.  Little bit of rain, just enough to keep the dust down.  To the field of Avalon, how many times have we seen Cara Dillon now?  Always good anyway... Chris is not up for Lulu, I grab a toffee apple 'cider' from the BROTHERS BAR, off to the Acoustic Tent again, it's Wilko Johnson aka Ser Ilyn Payne from Game of Thrones.  And then the Proclaimers!  Don't mention the referendum.  OK, let's see a headliner, Florence and the Machine in fact.  Don't think I've seen a performer enjoy their Pyramid set so much.

Soil and Pimp Sessions.

Saturday... bit of mud about, people in high vis rake wood chips into it while we watch Isaac Lee-Kronick and Sunset Suns at the John Peel.  The men in the audience approve of Ellie Rose at the BBC Introducing.  It's too hot for my wellies and the mud is drying, back to the tent, in fact I want a shower so off to the Greenpeace field.  A brief glimpse of Three Daft Monkeys, then queue for 25 minutes, worth it to get clean.  May as well do their FISH BYCATCH DROP SLIDE thing too.  Still don't like heights.  To the Jazz World Stage, sorry, West Holts, where Soil and Pimp Sessions provide JAPANESE DEATH JAZZ.  Acoustic Stage / real ale bar time.  Oops, Texas are ill, oh well, Rainy Boy Sleep steps up with a solo set.  Back to Shangri Hell, what sort of people come here during the day ask Buffo's Wake, and we dance around in circles.  Headbanging with Bad Lazarus, more Game of Thrones connection, this time the awesome Molotov Jukebox, led by Natalia Tena aka Osha.  And still more music, Tarantism have wandered in from the green fields, and there's a big crowd back at Hell for Slaves.

In Shangri-La.

Sunday - last day.  Feeling a bit tired for some reason, and it has rained in the night so back in my wellies.  Make it to the Pyramid for Hozier, Take me to Church, 'nuff said.  Tea and Boxcar Joe Strouzer in the Small World, all you need it seems is a hotdog and a nail.  Steel Pulse bring the reggae to West Holts, Belle and Sebastian invite the crowd up onto the Other Stage to dance.  And yet more GAME OF THRONES, this time Raleigh Ritchie aka Jacob Anderson aka Grey Worm.  Only time for a little of his alt-R&B stylings though, as it is time for The Who to bring the curtain down.  Though there is still time to trek all the way over the site, past the GIANT FIRE BREATHING SPIDER to the Park for a little dance with my brother.

Phew...
And yes, you could get the gist here just by skim reading and picking up on the SHOUTING.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Perpignan - Carcassonne, Day 4

Looking back along the Aude towards Limoux.

Last day then, and only sixteen miles or so to do, which is good since I have a flight to catch, departing at 5:30pm.  At least today I will actually get lunch, Limoux is big enough to have shops that open so I walk out of town with some food in my bag.  The walking is easy enough, I head north along the Aude valley, crossing the local rail line a few times.  Then at around six miles in I have a choice, I can either keep north and walk another ten miles straight to the airport, or cover the same sort of distance but a little more to the east, to reach the famous citadel of Carcassonne.  Of course I will then need to find a taxi or some such, or miss my flight.

Approaching the citadel.

Well, it is a no brainer really, and in the event the rest of the walk is a largely pleasant trek through vineyards and woodland.  Although I do pass through quite a bit of private land, including a section where I need to divert through the trees to avoid some angry dogs.  But I survive, and eventually cross a rise to see the walls of the citadel in front of me.  It is certainly very impressive, the sheer size of the thing is such that once I get up close it is hard to get any sense of scale, other than by walking around the battlements, it takes twenty minutes or so just to get a quarter or so of the way around.

I have time to get inside, it is rather reminiscent of Mont-St-Michel, but much larger.  Same plethora of tourist tat, though, on the plus side I'm able to get a beer.  I'm sure I could happily spend the whole day exploring here, but sadly I have a plane to catch - at least getting to the airport is easy, a tourist bus turns up just as I step out of the citadel gate.  All went according to plan then... and a pretty good plan it was too if I say so myself.

At the main gate.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.