I climbed out of the car at 6.30 in the morning. I had been dragging the road, trying to find a peace of sleep somewhere along the way from Dover to Brighton, without success. The rats were romping about the car now they had chewed a hole in their box, and the shame of our sad looking, overloaded station waggon (estate car) begin further lowered into the ground by the shameful wheelbarrow wheel (the car manufacturers call a “spare”) on the driver side rear, since 60km outside of Calais was too much to sleep with. Gawd those things are gruesome!
I staggered up the front steps and awoke out house sitter with the news that he was about to be woken up. I unpacked the car, the trailer, and repacked the trailer for the days event, departing at 9am for a 10.00 start. Cutting it fine I was, yes certainly! Going straight from the saddle of a 1400mile drive into the waiting arms of a festival event was far too much to seem real. I felt I was living someone else’s life!

The day was slower than last year… I think the morning rain had something to do with it… yet according to the door counters, the numbers were the same as last year. I did notice people arrived wanting to paint an hour or few earlier than last year, knowing who I was and what to expect.
I had a steady stream of people all day long and, when I got to the end of it (so I thought), the woman with three kids that complained at me to compensate her 20 minutes of spectatorship with turns for each of her kids really showed me an ingratitude. What does this person know about driving 1400 miles to do a festival, and being shouted at by someone like her?
But I didn’t let it get me down and got on with packing up (after serving two of the children – the third declined to impose). The after-party was great and so too was the performer whom I had seen at last year’s event. I enjoyed watching her very much, with a beer in one hand and a sandwich in the other. Yeah. Life is good. 🙂




