Shine on, Harvest Moon

Looking out of the window, watching the rain stream down from the leaden grey skies, I have to say that I feel a pang of sympathy for my boss, Ann, who is in a tent in a field somewhere in Oxfordshire, partway through Fairport Convention’s annual Cropredy festival.

In principle, I would like to attend such an event at some point in time, but I’m glad it’s not this year. I looked at the line up and there were precious few bands there I’d heard of (and to see the event being advertised in today’s Guardian suggests other people thought likewise). Fairport themselves don’t do a set until 9pm on Saturday and before that the only other band that springs to mind is, oddly, Status Quo - all very well, but not my pick for a folk festival.

I am all for a good gig. I’m all for a good outdoors gig in the countryside. I might even be up for the occasional bit of camping (provided I have something between my sleeping bag and every pointy stick and root in Christendom), but I’m not sure that I am up for gallons of mud any more. I’m not sure I ever was, to be honest, but certainly not now.

On the other hand, the temperature is back below 60° (whatever that maybe in new fangled temperatures) so it is finally feeling like a proper English summer at last.

Shine on, Harvest Moon

Looking out of the window, watching the rain stream down from the leaden grey skies, I have to say that I feel a pang of sympathy for my boss, Ann, who is in a tent in a field somewhere in Oxfordshire, partway through Fairport Convention’s annual Cropredy festival.

In principle, I would like to attend such an event at some point in time, but I’m glad it’s not this year. I looked at the line up and there were precious few bands there I’d heard of (and to see the event being advertised in today’s Guardian suggests other people thought likewise). Fairport themselves don’t do a set until 9pm on Saturday and before that the only other band that springs to mind is, oddly, Status Quo - all very well, but not my pick for a folk festival.

I am all for a good gig. I’m all for a good outdoors gig in the countryside. I might even be up for the occasional bit of camping (provided I have something between my sleeping bag and every pointy stick and root in Christendom), but I’m not sure that I am up for gallons of mud any more. I’m not sure I ever was, to be honest, but certainly not now.

On the other hand, the temperature is back below 60° (whatever that maybe in new fangled temperatures) so it is finally feeling like a proper English summer at last.