Let this be a lesson to you....

Yes, look and learn, getting drunk and being silly can damage your health..or someone else's....

This is a picture of a certain part of someone's anatomy damaged by a large, flying, yellow builders' bucket. dropped from a great height on the poor unsuspecting victim below. Well, ok, he had been hitting himself over the head with various objects a few moments earlier, but still...

yes, there we were, in the beer tent at the end of the muddy Sugar Hill Festival. They were all drinking alcohol. I was on orange juice. Then.

The cause of the injury was not the usual implement, of choice, a metal tea tray. take a look at the cut: this had another cause..after the head in question had been struck by a tray, a large cardboard tube, and other random objects, a fellow reveller delivered the final (almost fatal) blow by climbing up on the beer casks and dropping a large yellow plastic builders bucket from a great height.

The resulting trauma and bloodshed had Geoff (for it was he, of 'FROLICKING' fame) drop to his knees, from which position I was able to stem the blood flow with a tissue, and clasp the injured party to my bosom, where he stayed quiet for some time. When the gathered motley crew had stopped laughing, Geoff's silence and lack of movement caused some concern, and so a couple were moved to ask if he was ok. After a short pause, a muffled voice from my bosom replied, 'No! I'm suffocating,' after which I released him and restored him to his feet.

Now let that be an end to it. NO MORE TRAYS. SOMEONE WILL GET KILLED. OR BE HORRIBLY INJURED. AND END UP IN MY BOSOM.

As Geoff was heard to say, death by suffocation is highly preferable to death by concussion.....

A little later, back in the caravan, after a little more alcohol had been drunk, and I had popped a little JD and brandy in my coffee, and got ever so slightly giggly, Geoff went to sit in the camping chair as I was trying to encourage him and his friend to leave (it was 3am...) 'What part of bugger off do you not understand?' I said, drink loosening my tongue. Hysterical laughter and a feeling of weakness led Geoff to try sitting in this position..... either that, or he was trying to put his injured head in the oven.....

and they didn't leave until almost 4.30am....

More music....

I wrote about going to Cropredy, the Fairport Convention Annual Festival, with the ever patient Shaun and his little pop-up (and his tent....) and I hinted that I intended to write more about the music....well now seems a good time....

I was more than a little excited to discover that a band called Stackridge was playing... I delved into my wardrobe and pulled out my Stackridge T shirt and looked lovingly at the LPs I purchased in the 1970s. Stackridge was a Bristol based band I met through a school friend, and I went to a few gigs with them, even going out couple of times with the drummer, Billy, until drama school in Manchester called, and we lost touch...

The band broke up soon after, a mix of intense creative personalities falling out, and also a failure to 'make it' in the music business despite a loyal following: their music was different, couldn't be pigeon holed and didn't have a place in mainstream : I remember their first single, Dora the Female Explorer, (really..) being reviewed by Annie Nightingale on Radio One, and she just made fun of it and dismissed them: I hated her from that moment on.

Stackridge made history: they turned up uninvited at a small music festival near Shepton Mallet one year, and were lucky enough to be asked to play: unbeknown to them they opened the very first Glastonbury Festival!!! This year, having reformed, they played again at Glastonbury and went down a storm.

So it was that I left my usual place half way up the arena, and dressed in my Stackridge T shirt, I pressed myself against the pit barrier and felt myself fill with joy and nostalgia as the opening notes of Lummy Days hit me: I was not alone, there were many joyful Stackridge fans in the crowd, and we were all singing along to Marzo and Slark: the band were as brilliant as ever, and maybe now their peculiar brand of prog rock/folk will find a home on the festival circuit.

Billy is no longer with them, or Mike, but four original members are still with the band. I thought, I'd love to say hello, but I was a slip of a girl of 17 when I knew them: I'm now an older fatter 55, and they won't recognise me, sadly.... then they came on stage, and I was shocked by the line up of old men! Long flowing locks of dark hair have been replaced by grey, and gone completely to bald heads..I am not the only one to feel the ravages of time.

But the joy of their music speaks for itself: and I hope I see them at more festivals next summer. I did speak to them, and no they didn't remember me, (why should they!) (Billy would of course....) but they were friendly and lvoely and pleased to be remembered and back in business.

Have a listen. Prepare to be amazed. Let tears fall at the story of Percy the Penguin, or Syracuse the Elephant....

Now listen.....

Last tears...if only

These are the last tears I'm gonna cry for you
My cryin's through I'm moving on
I don't regret and won't forget
A single thing that we went through
But there are the last tears I'm gonna cry for you

You take things so much easier than I do
And you could live your life without me if you had to
And you believe that in the end it all works out right
And I might if not for you
And if you ask which one lives just alone for love
I do.

There was a time when all signs pointed to the warm south
The planets all lined up and built a new house
And everything we talked about felt like a prophecy
And when you looked at me they all came true
And if you asked which one wants to go the distance
I do.

I'm gonna rack my mind one last time until I cannot think
I'm gonna dip into your memory and take a good stiff drink
And when I'm drunk on the last drop of sadness about how we went wrong
I'm gonna play this song
Make some coffee black and strong
Give thanks for healing time
And finally make up my mind....

These are the last tears I'm gonna cry for you
My cryin's through I'm moving on.

I don't regret a single thing??? Oh, but I do. God give me the strength to walk away.

Mud mud glorious mud....

Mmmm.last festival of the season..my hopes for an Indian summer (whatever that is) proved in vain. Cold, wet, muddy...yep that just about sums it up. That, and a lack of punters. many who did brave the mud, cold, wind and rain of Friday and Saturday, just packed up and left on Sunday morning, you can't blame them, but it meant Beth Rowley and Tom Baxter played to very few people in the Big Top!! But they were true pros and carried on..Imelda May was also amazing..... will Sugar Hill happen next year? Mmmm...conversations needed, sums to be done. Watch this space...

Bye, Sophie dog.....

Bye little friend. Best friend for over 15 years. We'll miss you.