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.

Another day, another festival....

After a few days back at work, facing long days at my desk in the office, as opposed to outside in the fresh air running about on site, I felt the need to go to another festival..this time as a punter..,and with the offer of free tickets and backstage camping pass, it would be churlish to turn it down!

But..no-one to go with, and not wishing to be Sally no-mates, or inflict myself on others where I may not be wanted (and I may not want to either!) I got another ticket and pass for a friend...invited him to join me... and the answer was yes! Hooray! Shaun, one of the evil twins had come good, and was going to be my festival buddy!!!!

Having made my usual plans, packed my little tent and got ready to go, I remembered I still can't drive (only 2 months to go!) so had to rethink..train? With a sleeping bag, sleeping mat, duvet, pillow, tent, clothes...I think not..so I asked the long suffering other half to take me there, which he did. (Anything to get rid of me for the weekend...) Shaun met us at the site gate and watched in horror as an entire car load of my stuff was transferred to his car..as he pointed out, I had taken more for 2 nights that he does for an entire week at GB... well, I am a girly....

Actually my tent had come on with an advance party, who had also put it up for me, bless them, it normally takes me an hour or more on my own. I offered to help Shaun put up his tent next to mine. He unzipped a little bag and something flew out and expanded in mid air and landed...a tent. 'There you go,' said Shaun, knocking in a couple of tent pegs, it took all of a minute and a half. Clever sod.

It was time to walk round to the mainstage.. only a minute's walk as we were conveniently camped backstage (friends in all the right places you know....) and Shaun looked on stunned again, as I handed him two chairs (I forgot the rug, damn) and carried a cool box and picnic bag and another carrier bag of food..laden down we headed off, Shaun grumbling at the amount of stuff. 'Stop moaning,' I said, 'People will think we're married....' I know it seemed a bit of a middle-aged way of going to a festival, but he settled himself in a chair, and accepted lunch when the time came... a wonderful picnic.

The bands? The music? Now that's another story.

More festival pics....

More pics....audience cafe style, enthralled by Tough Talk: ex-cricketer Henry Olonga singing - what a voice! Spot my excellent camera skills, showing him in close up on screen.... London Community Gospel Choir, a sell-out .... the schools' choirs night, with over 300 children taking part!!! And Godspell, which was a brilliant performance... took me back to my days as ASM of the national tour....

The committee report this week highlighted the good things about the festival, and the best was 'having a highly professional event management company produce the festival, without whose hard work and contribution, they couldn't have done it.. and they would use us again.' Oh well. Maybe not! But I am a bit proud of what we achieved.

So much good...

..and so much bad at the festival. For me anyway. Professionally, the culmination of 18 months of planning and meetings, organising, decision making, site design, licence issues..so it goes on. But we did it. And we did it bloody well.

What we have worked towards since setting up the business two years ago. So much potential. The first major piece of work for us..and now most likely, the last. Question is, do I simply resign from the business, or do I request that it be dissolved, or disbanded, or whatever it is you do to a business? Cos SAND is Sally and David....and if I am not to be part of it any more, then I think it should cease to exist. But what happens to all the business things, the bank accounts, the assets, the debts.....it is very, very sad.

However, some more pics of the festival to end on a high note..apart from the major evening events, there were day time events, and we designed the marquee space so it could be split into two halves, or one half and two quarters, with round tables and bistro chairs, so the coffee bar could have that intimate feel...every day there was a chair aerobics session - I joined in briefly while D took a picture, but then we had to run away cos we weren't taking it very seriously....there was a talk every day, a charity of teh day, a book review and a lunch time concert, as well as tea, coffee and cakes. It was very successful, well attended, and I heard some good stuff here, very moving and very apt.

Spot me doing chair aerobics...and the lunchtime concert with the Salvation Army sextet..excellent.....

And so it begins...

After three days of site building, three fun days in which it all started to come together, three days of having teams of volunteers arriving and helping out and making friends..two days of which it didn't rain, and we ate outside in the sunshine, retired to the caravan to eat and relax at night, made friends with Andy the scary biker security guy who turned out to be lovely and greeted me each evening with a big hug, and who came into the caravan late at night for cups of tea before guarding us all night...the Big Guy who found me crying one night and just wrapped his arms round me and said, Sally, You're lvoely....and he looked out for me every evening and was the only Atheist on site but the lovliest. Thank you Andy.

The sound and lighting guys turned up. Dan and John, what characters, what a laugh we had..they all liked a drink back in the caravan after work....I stuck to cups of tea or coffee (except one night, more of that later...)

Then it began, the first Saturday night, the Youth gig, with the live bands, and my teams of volunteers turned up, I briefed them, kitted them out with radios and looked after them through their first shift. They had a whale of a time, for most of them, their first experience of any kind of festival, or of stewarding in a yellow vest. Radios were foreign objects, and teaching them how to use the volume control, channel knob, ear pieces and mikes was hysterical. But we laughed and they loved it. Doggit and Maria came and briefed the Pit Crew and stayed and helped with the gig.

They stayed the night in the caravan, and the whisky came out....

A good night.

And there's more...

It was a city centre, non residential Christian Festival in the city centre park. It lasted 9 days, the longest festival we have worked on, hence the length of time on site. We had problems with suppliers, the stage was late, the chairs and tables were late, I was on the phone getting stroppy with people, being very assertive and getting things done. Oooh, she's scary when she's angry, said passing volunteers.

I was the only woman in a crew full of blokes..I made lots of cups of tea. I offered. I was also asked to put the kettle on when I was about to help build the stage. I did not like this and threw my work gloves across the marquee and left. DC followed me and asked to help build the stage. He apologised for the poor unfortunate male who suggested it. I threw a cup and broke it. I made the tea. I reminded people that I was working as an ASM in the theatre when they were all still in nappies, I have lifted stage weights, built scenery, and never, in the 70s...the last century!!!..experienced sexism like this. Everytime I wheeled a flight case off the van some bloke would say, 'Well done!'

The man delivering the generators saw me go into the portacabin site office and said, 'Have you got a kettle in there love?' No, I said, but I'll go and make you a cup of tea..... Now Mandy, the girl who drove the 100 ton truck and delivered the portacabin, Mandy with the hardhat, face piercings and tattoos, now she was lovely, I climbed up into her cab out of the rain, and showed her where to site the portacabin (we painted the marks earlier...) When we got to position, there was DC in his yellow Hi Viz waterproof waving us in...as if I couldn't site a portacabin on my own. I sighed. 'Men!' said Mandy, laughing. Men, indeed....

Festival facts

1. It was brilliant.


2. I was on site for 13 days and nights, only left once for an hour, the rest of the time was working, or eating, or sleeping, or talking, or laughing,....or crying....


3. Professionally, it was A Success.


4. I had a badge saying 'Event Director.'


5. I was in charge (with David).


6. SAND stands for Sally an' David.. (get it?....)


7. I loved it.


8. I could do it full time. For ever.


9. It might be the last gig we do as SAND. First and last. Go out with a bang, not a whimper.....


10. I promised some pictures:
Day one, set up day, poured with rain from morning til night. Our caravan and site office, set up til backstage was built. Woken at 7.15am on Day One by Man phoning trying to get on site to deliver toilets (I did remember to order them!) and I had to throw some clothes on and some water proofs and take delivery!



The marquee going up in the rain...so exciting... the start of it all. David and I had gone round the park early in the rain, checking our site plan, measuring and marking out with spray paint where everything had to go..I had guessed the position of the toilets earlier and they were a few feet out...didn't think it mattered until Anal Person pointed out the lights would now miss them..... doh...

Building our Outside Safe Store in the rain, with my two beautiful assistants, David and David..(so many Davids on site, whenever I yelled the name, at least four guys came running...never the right one of course.....) I even wielded a sledge hammer to put the stakes in..did I mention how much I enjoyed myself?

What a roller coaster.....

Yes, a roller coaster, that describes the last few weeks. Thank you so much for those of you who have been there at the end of the phone when I have needed you. I am truly grateful, and hope you know I am always here to return the favour! I couldn't have got through it without you.

Friends....made in God's own image....if I don't say it often enough, you are lvoely...... thank you all of you for caring, if at a distance, you don't know how much you all mean to me.

However, I have survived, and part of surviving the past few weeks has been being very busy writing and delivering 7 training sessions for over 250 volunteers, preparing for the Festival we have been working for, over the last 18 months.

Against all odds, the training has been good, more than good, it has been well received, people have thanked us for it, said it was fun, informative and professional and excellent material well delivered. During my lowest moments, it has lifted my self esteem and self belief.

Now we are preparing to go to site, all the suppliers and contractors are booked, licence done, park booked, insurance sorted, risk assessments done..all that remains is for David and I to drive (well ok, David to drive) our caravan to site, and be ready for the marquee to arrive..and the fencing..and the portacabin, and the toilets (I did remember to order the toilets, didn't I?) and to put on our waterproofs and get stuck in.

I have designed every policy and procedure known to man (or woman) and have got my festival event file ready.

I will try and post some photos as we go along...it will be a historic event. Maybe the First and Last major gig for SAND Consulting!!!! After that, who knows...

Strange, weird, thoughtful, sad, reflective....

A weird day. My dad died 3 years ago this week. This pic is of his 80th birthday, 4 months before he died, and a month after my mum died. In the photo, tying his balloon onto his chair, is my mum's younger sister, my aunty Jan. She had been ill for some time, and today I made another trip to Bristol for her funeral.

The sun shone, like it did three years ago, and I arrived early enough to visit my mum and dad and out some flowers in the holder above their plaque. Clive, James and Laura were with me, bless them, I love my children for wanting to be there and the tears they shed with me.

I hugged my uncle, and my cousins, and we held on tight, feeling that bond of knowing people we lvoed were gone for ever. Hopefully they are together.

Jan was so different from my mother: my poor mum who was anxious, depressed, miserable, resentful, self obsessed, even when her problems were relatively minor to Jan's, whose illness has been life threatening for some years. Jan, on the other hand, who was seriously ill, was cheerful, outgoing, funny, outrageous and was always laughing. She missed my mum so much, and she could make her laugh and cheer her up like no-one else. I have spoken to her often since mum died, and she has been a tower of strength and an example to me.

I visited her in hospital in March, on the same ward my mum had been on...and we laughed. She was so pleased to see me. I spoke to her on the phone about three weeks ago, she was back at home but waiting to go in for the operation from which she may not recover (she didn't) and..yes... we laughed, and talked, and shared...she was remarkable.

Funerals are weird things. One minute crying, the next minute talking to family you know well, being pleased to see them, sharing memories, eating, drinking, laughing, meeting relatives you didn't know you had, 'Oh, are you Betty's daughter? Lovely to meet you, I knew your mum years ago, she was lovely.' My cousin Mike, hugging me hard saying he knew he would cry when he saw me, (thanks Mike) saying I haven't changed in 40 years, the same old Sal and still lvoely (thanks Mike!) now his mum was gone he knew how I felt.

It's a party, a celebration, old photographs to look at, a time of intimacy and laughter..yet the person it's all for, the guest of honour is not there.

And you reflect on all the losses, all the sadness in your life, you take stock and look round, and think, Fuck me, I'm the older generation now, not the children any more, but the parents, my cousins grey and going bald..Fuck it's not long since we were children. And there are my two, looking gorgeous, 31 and 28..can it be???

I have just finished a book, last night, and the author was talking about mindfulness. Living truly in the present, inside your self, in the moment, fully aware of yourself and what you are doing. Then an e-mail came in from a guy I heard speak once, an inspirational guy, I signed up to his monthly bulletins. This morning the e-mail was on..mindfulness.. The importance of living in the present, not the past, full of regrets at what has not been, or in the future, living for what might be, but in the here and now. Then I looked at the rollecoaster blog, which I haven't for a few weeks..and guess what? She talked about mindfulness.

Mindfulness. Three times in less than 14 hours. I have reflected on that today, I was meant to read the words, hear the message. I am stuck in a world of looking at the past, worrying about the future, wanting what I cannot have, wanting more, missing today and the here and now of life because in my head I am always somewhere else.

I am going to think more about being mindful.. About my Aunty Jan who was her children's best friend, who cheered everyone up by her positive outlook and wonderful sense of humour.

I will miss her.

They're in!

If you compare this picture of the kitchen with the one on the blog below, you will see a slight difference..Amy cooking us some lunch!! Yes, after six months of hard graft, they are in their flat...not totally finished... we spent a cold, wet, gale force winds Bank Holiday Monday in the flat while James and Clive did a few more jobs, Laa, Amy and me lounged about and watched 'The Sound of Music' on the TV..well, it had to be done, they had never seen it, and it's just a classic!! They also had to admit that despite trying, there was nothing else on worth watching....they tolerated my adoration for this classic childhood favourite..but when I joined in the songs..well you have to, don't you, James came and told me I was spoiling it for the other children, and would I please keep quiet.....why is, when the nun sings 'Climb Every Mountain..til you find your dream,' I had tears in my eyes, and the others are wetting themselves laughing at the corniness of it?? Oh, I forgot to mention, son in law Mec was there, and he had to suffer it too.... and I think, from the look on his face for the whole 3 hours, suffer was the word. he should have just thought of his Favourite Things.....

The best picture of all.....

I am very proud of this picture. Taken with my iphone. A quick 'point and shoot' out of the train window. But I think the result is stunning....

Some more pics.....

Oh, the visits to the wee craft shops and wee giftie shops..oh the temptations..all those we cuddly toys, but not a giraffe in sight.... mind you, these mugs were tempting.....

Has someone we know gone into business in the Scottish Highlands??

I saw these hand made Scottish plaques in one wee craft shop (not at all touristy...) and I nearly bought one each for some good friends..but decided to take pics instead and let you work out if tou might have been a recipient..and if so, which one???

So beautiful...so peaceful....

We were lucky with the weather, I know. It was pouring with rain down south, but in Bonny Scotland, we were blessed with the odd cloudy moments, but not a drop of rain. Lots of clear blue skies, and gorgeous views across lochs and mountains...

Getting off the train at a wee country station...

The peace and stillness of a beautiful loch..if only I could have captured the complete silence that was there too...

This stunning sculpture to honour the Commandos, the elite force formed during the second world war, and who trained up in the highlands before seeing active service. It gave me the opportunity to ask a travelling companion, a gentleman aged 85, on holiday with his daughter, about the Commandos, and he was able to tell me their story. He reminded me a bit of my dad... but he was still getting about and seeing life....bless him...

Saturday night ceilidh...not....

Joan announced that there would be a ceilidh in the hotel on Saturday night, after dinner, with a live band. Everyone was invited to dance. Oh...this should be interesting..would they manage without their sticks or zimmer frames? Well, I would give it a go..live Scottish music and a chance to dance a bit..I was up for it.

So we all gathered expectantly in the dining room after dinner, and there was the band.... and the music..well, how do I put this, they were more Jimmy Shand than Peatbog Faeries...very middle of the road, and everything sounded the same...not really ceilidh music.... suddenly people were up and dancing...now a waltz..then a quickstep..the older the couples, the more amazingly they skimmed across the dance floor. They were pros. Now Clive doesn't dance. And I am not waltzing alone. After watching appreciatively for a little while, we slipped out and sank into a sofa in the lounge with our books..honestly, us young people, we just don't know how to party....

Och aye, it's true....

Yes, I admit it. Over five days and nights, I slept my way round Scotland. With more than 22 men. I admit it. In hotel rooms, on trains...and on a coach. Oh, and their wives were there too. Oh, 23 men, including the coach driver. What a tart I am.

You know I have trouble sleeping? While put me on an OAP train and coach tour of Scotland, in stunning sunshine, under blue skies, with the most amazing scenery in the world to look at...and magically, I sleep!!!

It was Clive's choice of holiday, I admit I was not that keen, and when I got off the plane at Edinburgh and got on the coach, the sea of elderly people complete with grey hair (if they had any) hearing aids and walking sticks, did nothing to inspire. I gave myself a good talking to for being ageist. I wouldn't dare complain, 'they were all black' or 'they were all disabled' would I? But I was aware I was showing a certain prejudice towards old age, and I hated myself for it. They were probably lovely people, just like me. (Well, maybe not like me.) But I just didn't feel ready for that kind of holiday. I suppose it made me look at my own advancing years, and I didn't want to. But to harp back for a moment at that infamous GB icebreaker where we all had to stand in a line in order of age, and I was at the wrong end of the line..well if we had done it in Scotland, I would have been at the right end. By a long way.

When Joan, or tour guide, piped up on the microphone, 'say hello to Harry, our driver,' in her cheery Scots voice and everyone went, 'hello Harry!' and laughed with glee, I sunk in my seat and thought, it's going to be a long five days.

But do you know....I enjoyed it. I relaxed, I slept (missed Loch Ness, apparently it's very pretty). But as Joan had tasked us with shouting out if we 'spotted Nessie' I was happy to pass on that one. What I enjoyed, for four days, having gone away with a bad cold, and feeling very, very tired, was not having to think. Or talk much. It was bliss. I was told when to come down for breakfast, when to get on the coach. I looked out at the scenery, in peaceful silence, or slept. Every hour and a half the coach would stop, and Joan would tell us to shop at the wee gift shop, have a cup of coffee and use the loos, and off I would go, obedient to the letter. Then we would stop at a railway station, I would be told to buy sandwiches, then get on the train and enjoy a couple of hours tootling through the highlands, lochs and fields, either looking out the window, obediently eating my sandwich..or sleeping a bit more.

I struggled to stay awake and look out of the window, but by day two I gave in and let myself sleep. The warm coach or train, the gentle movement, the scenery passing by, and having nothing to occupy my mind, was bliss. Back at the hotel we were told when to come down for dinner, ('Our coach party eats at 7pm, sorry it's so late, ' chirped Joan,) and even where to sit. After dinner, there was coffee in the lounge, and by about 9.15pm everyone had hobbled upstairs to bed, and we were left to curl up on a sofa and read our books. Bliss. I was asleep by about 9.30pm so then I turned in too.

Some pics, taken on my trusty iphone, capture some of the magic.... right, everybody back on the coach....