Monday 22 August 2011

Beautiful Days, cycling pianist and Persil

I have just returned from my first time at a festival..................what a great weekend!  The venue was the Beautiful Days festival which takes place every August in Devon.  My initial concerns about camping again after many years avoiding it were unfounded, although plumbed in toilets rather than portaloos would have been welcome, however this is unlikely to happen in a field.
The weekend kicked off on Friday morning upon arrival in a field, following a line of festival goers in their various means of transport, where we were directed to our allotted car parking spaces.  Wristbands were fixed onto each ticket holder by the officials, different colours for adults, children, stall holders, caterers and performers.  Mine is still attached as I can’t yet bring myself to snip it off and end the magic of the weekend.  Unloading the car and heading to the tent (very kindly constructed the previous day by friends) I encountered my first sightings of folk of all shapes, sizes and ages decked out in every kind of outfit imaginable.  This theme carried on for the whole weekend with the addition of extra merchandise bought from the stalls and body painting appearing on every available skin surface. 
Sitting on the grass watching the various bands over the whole weekend gave me the chance to people watch (one of my favourite lazy day things to do) and I certainly had an eclectic choice to cast my eyes over.  Immediately obvious was just how happy everyone appeared, some dancing, others catching up with family and friends, children of all ages playing with bubbles and other simple toys, but most of all each person was having fun.  Costumes ranged from flowing jumbled up colours of the hippies, to groups dressed as mushrooms, dominoes, clowns and one guy dressed as Willy Wonka.  Quite a few chaps wore dresses and were obviously quite in touch with their feminine side and comfortable in their choice of tulle, frills, lace and full length gloves.  Above all, nobody batted an eyelid or derided anyone else.  Bizarre entertainers such as the cycling pianist (yes, he had a full sized piano attached to his bicycle); stilt walker; a man dressed as a tree; a line of people decked out as dominoes all added to the fun packed days.
My preconceived ideas about dreadlocked people being far removed from the real world have been blown to pieces over the past three days.  I spent many hours watching families where one or both parents sport these matted long hair creations and the way they care for and spend quality time with their children is above and beyond what I have seen from a lot of so-called “normal” parents.  The children are confident, happy and sociable and are growing up in an environment where the importance of respecting others, looking after the planet and not needing expensive electronic goods to have fun is their mantra.  So what if the grownups have long hair and mismatched clothing?  Does this affect their ability to be good parents and positive role models to others in the wider community?  No, it does not.  Life is one long learning experience and these children are fortunate enough to have families who ensure they are able to experience it in a very hands-on way.
I met a couple with a baby so tiny she was still folded up.  I asked how old she was and the reply came “four weeks.............but there is a three week and a two week old here too”.  Her parents were still at the stage where they weren’t quite sure how to pass her from one to the other; however they had sourced some funky ear defenders from Australia to protect her little ears.........shame she didn’t like the sudden silence and cried loudly!
Upon returning home I nipped out to buy some washing liquid to tackle the camp laundry pile.  I came across some Persil with added Comfort on offer at half price. Excellent, just what I needed.  Note to self..............next time have a sniff of the stuff before purchasing.  Unfortunately it has exactly the same scent as the blue sanitizing fluid used in the Portaloos.

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