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ventaAround this time of year, life gets very busy with folk festivals and the like.
I've been to Warwick folk festival the past few years, usually with a dance team. This year Boojum, my occasional rapper team, were invited.
I drove up on Friday, for once having no navigational doubts as (a) the route from the M40 was simple and (b) I had a very clear memory of what the roads looked like from last time. Point (a) was true. Fortunately. I still haven't worked out where my clear memory is of, but definitely bloody isn't Warwick.
Parking myself on the campsite felt like coming home. As I arrived, the steward directing me was someone I knew, then by pure good luck, I found where the rest of my team were pitched at the first go. Threw my tent up hastily, and headed off for food... hot roast spicy Caribbean pig in a bun, and a bunch more friends to talk to while I ate it.
I headed off to the ceilidh after that - and completely failed to do any dancing as I was lured in by the bar and more people to talk to. The late-night band were anAmerican Canadian (oops) bunch called The Paperboys, whom I'd never encountered before. They play a slightly odd mixture of celtic and Cajun music, which worked pretty well... except, unfortunately, misled me into attempting a bit of dancing. Cajun dancing makes your right leg fall off [1], so I retired knackered after a while.
I was up reasonably early on Saturday morning. Walking across the campsite, it struck me that the atmosphere probably wasn't that different from early morning at any music festival... There were the enthusiastic early morning types, making tea on little gas stoves, and everyone else wandering about in states varying from mildly nauseous to critically hungover. The food vans were up and running, and somewhere out of sight a bloke with a guitar was churning out Another Man's Cause. My shower took rather longer than expected, as I spent ages waiting for it to warm up (it did, right after I'd given up and washed my hair in cold water), and by the time I was out again everything had gone very definitely folky. The mysterious Leveller was no longer to be heard, and had been replaced by a couple playing mandolins and singing in close harmony. There was a big mob of Witchmen milling about - so, huge guys in black and yellow rags, top hats stuck with pheasant feathers, faces painted black, and studded leather gloves. People carrying clogs, morris bells jingling...
Saturday we danced. A lot. In pubs, on street corners, in a procession, in a park... People seemed to like it, which was nice.
Two things about Saturday night: one, my team decided to have a cocktail party. The plan was to have cocktails and drinks which were in team colours (black, gold and green). And at some point it was decided that people should wear outrageous evening dress in kit colours too. Fine, I can do that, I own a green pvc dress, which was a good thing because: two, it was not Warwick Weather. That is, instead of the blazing sunshine everyone associates with Warwick festival, it absolutely hosed it down. A waterproof dress was fantastic :)
However, there's an absence of sensible drinks in those colours. Note to self: when someone offers you green punch, decline. When you know it to be the evolving kind of punch which keeps getting extra stuff tipped into it, decline with extreme prejudice. In the event of you accidentally drinking some, do not follow it with fizzy white wine, then Goldschlager, and do not go to a ceilidh, and drink beer, and then don't go to the beer tent and drink some more. It was a fine evening, much good conversation, and dancing to Florida. I was, however, not terribly well later.
I got up at about half eight on Sunday morning, feeling fine. Had some breakfast, then noticed that, since it was only half eight, I had absolutely no need to get up for some time, and went back to bed. By half past nine, I felt absolutely rough as dogs, and only just managed to resuscitate myself (via a hot shower and an enormous sausge-inna-bun) in time to catch the bus into town for... more dancing.
Somehow, most of the slots we were booked into all weekend we were sharing with Hammersmith morris, who have a richly deserved reputation for being complete reprobates. They are, however, a cracking [2] morris team, and very entertaining company.
By Sunday, the Warwick weather was out in force, and dancing wearing all black was much less appealing. We managed... and someone even tentatively extended us an invited to another festival based on having seen us. Woo :)
A good weekend. Camping in the rain still sucks, but good company can cancel that out.
[1] Why ? Well. Stand up. Go on. Imagine yourself some music. 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4... On the 1 and the 3, drop all your weight onto your right leg, bending your knee a little. On the 2 and the 4, your weight goes briefly onto your left leg, before dropping heavily onto your right again. Repeat. Repeat some more. Has your right leg fallen off yet ? The rest of it (from the ankles up) is kind of like jiving.
[2] Morris, you know, the hanky-waving kind. I've always professed loudly to despise it, but over the last couple of years have been reaching the conclusion that actually what's wrong is that nearly everyone does it badly. The combined efforts of 'Smiths, Dogrose and Berkshire Bedlams have finally convinced me that it can actually look good.
I've been to Warwick folk festival the past few years, usually with a dance team. This year Boojum, my occasional rapper team, were invited.
I drove up on Friday, for once having no navigational doubts as (a) the route from the M40 was simple and (b) I had a very clear memory of what the roads looked like from last time. Point (a) was true. Fortunately. I still haven't worked out where my clear memory is of, but definitely bloody isn't Warwick.
Parking myself on the campsite felt like coming home. As I arrived, the steward directing me was someone I knew, then by pure good luck, I found where the rest of my team were pitched at the first go. Threw my tent up hastily, and headed off for food... hot roast spicy Caribbean pig in a bun, and a bunch more friends to talk to while I ate it.
I headed off to the ceilidh after that - and completely failed to do any dancing as I was lured in by the bar and more people to talk to. The late-night band were an
I was up reasonably early on Saturday morning. Walking across the campsite, it struck me that the atmosphere probably wasn't that different from early morning at any music festival... There were the enthusiastic early morning types, making tea on little gas stoves, and everyone else wandering about in states varying from mildly nauseous to critically hungover. The food vans were up and running, and somewhere out of sight a bloke with a guitar was churning out Another Man's Cause. My shower took rather longer than expected, as I spent ages waiting for it to warm up (it did, right after I'd given up and washed my hair in cold water), and by the time I was out again everything had gone very definitely folky. The mysterious Leveller was no longer to be heard, and had been replaced by a couple playing mandolins and singing in close harmony. There was a big mob of Witchmen milling about - so, huge guys in black and yellow rags, top hats stuck with pheasant feathers, faces painted black, and studded leather gloves. People carrying clogs, morris bells jingling...
Saturday we danced. A lot. In pubs, on street corners, in a procession, in a park... People seemed to like it, which was nice.
Two things about Saturday night: one, my team decided to have a cocktail party. The plan was to have cocktails and drinks which were in team colours (black, gold and green). And at some point it was decided that people should wear outrageous evening dress in kit colours too. Fine, I can do that, I own a green pvc dress, which was a good thing because: two, it was not Warwick Weather. That is, instead of the blazing sunshine everyone associates with Warwick festival, it absolutely hosed it down. A waterproof dress was fantastic :)
However, there's an absence of sensible drinks in those colours. Note to self: when someone offers you green punch, decline. When you know it to be the evolving kind of punch which keeps getting extra stuff tipped into it, decline with extreme prejudice. In the event of you accidentally drinking some, do not follow it with fizzy white wine, then Goldschlager, and do not go to a ceilidh, and drink beer, and then don't go to the beer tent and drink some more. It was a fine evening, much good conversation, and dancing to Florida. I was, however, not terribly well later.
I got up at about half eight on Sunday morning, feeling fine. Had some breakfast, then noticed that, since it was only half eight, I had absolutely no need to get up for some time, and went back to bed. By half past nine, I felt absolutely rough as dogs, and only just managed to resuscitate myself (via a hot shower and an enormous sausge-inna-bun) in time to catch the bus into town for... more dancing.
Somehow, most of the slots we were booked into all weekend we were sharing with Hammersmith morris, who have a richly deserved reputation for being complete reprobates. They are, however, a cracking [2] morris team, and very entertaining company.
By Sunday, the Warwick weather was out in force, and dancing wearing all black was much less appealing. We managed... and someone even tentatively extended us an invited to another festival based on having seen us. Woo :)
A good weekend. Camping in the rain still sucks, but good company can cancel that out.
[1] Why ? Well. Stand up. Go on. Imagine yourself some music. 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4... On the 1 and the 3, drop all your weight onto your right leg, bending your knee a little. On the 2 and the 4, your weight goes briefly onto your left leg, before dropping heavily onto your right again. Repeat. Repeat some more. Has your right leg fallen off yet ? The rest of it (from the ankles up) is kind of like jiving.
[2] Morris, you know, the hanky-waving kind. I've always professed loudly to despise it, but over the last couple of years have been reaching the conclusion that actually what's wrong is that nearly everyone does it badly. The combined efforts of 'Smiths, Dogrose and Berkshire Bedlams have finally convinced me that it can actually look good.
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Date: 2003-07-28 07:40 am (UTC)http://www.warkfolk.demon.co.uk/, in case you're interested, in future...
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Date: 2003-07-28 07:42 am (UTC)cool.
thanks for the link BTW