Angels Fall to the Floor....

Night one passed in a haze of Beer.... IPAs, Stouts, Fruit, and at 1130, after jigging about to Dr Hip and the Blues Operation, the Lush Puppies and the Tenessee Hotshots, I had to call it a day when Colonel Mustard and the Dijon 5 took to the stage.  I couldn't take any more.   Even the Creme Van - selling burnt to order Creme Caramel couldn't tempt me to stay longer.  

Saturday morning dawned, with a pain in the bladder. Toilet visit was required.  This is the biggest pain of Camping.  I toddled along to "WC in Fields", to discover toilets full of beer poo and piss.  I had to; it was a must.   Then I went back to bed.  Himself paid the same visit and we retired for a further two hours.  

In those two hours, about another 40 tents appeared. 

We decided against the walk to the Bothy, it's an hour up a hill, and the temperature was around 22 degrees.  The walk from the car had almost killed me - I didn't want to die for pretty beer.   We wandered to the Loch - Fyne, that is.  Had a bimble around a garden centre and got some posh juice from Loch Fyne Foods, and then returned, via a 1700's cemetary  to commence the alcohol intake once more. 

The Tap Room was the place to be.  It was FULL of people. Everyone was back to stealing chairs to move into the shade. It had to be 27 in the courtyard.  Everyone was keeling.  (see Extras)  We partook of some Artisan Scotch Eggs, a couple of beers, and then toddled back to the tent for a nap to prepare for the next round. 

The next round was a "meet the brewers" talk in the "Old Barn", with Tasters. 

I was delighted.  The first taster, and the first brewer was Campervan Ales.  - He likes Campervans, he likes beer.  It was an opportunity for him to do what he loved and make money.  He's still trying, but he is getting there, and his rhubarb Ale had been my very favourite, after his "hoppy camper" the night before.   (See Extras)

Back to the Main Camp for the next round.  It had thundered briefly while we were in - and from stealing all the chairs from inside the main area, people were moving back in. 

We had a wonderful moment where himself poked me in the back and said "look at the guy writing stories, tell me I'm mistaken, but isn't that the guy who wrote a poem for Boy in North Carolina".  I looked at him, I went over and said "have you been to Asheville", and he said "In North Carolina, yes, writing in the street". IT WAS HIM!!!!  

I told him our story, and how Boy had loved his Haiku and then lost it, and I bought a typewriter and rewrote it for him :-)  He loved that.  It was like reliving a moment with Boy all over again. I was quite emosh (and it wasn't to do with the Alcohol ha ha ha)  - See Extra

There were another 5 bands on afternoon and night, and inbetween they played a selection of music.  1000 people suddenly recognizing a song and all screaming along drunkenly and with passion - is quite something to witness (Mon the Biffy)

We ate salmon and crab burgers (as opposed to the hog roast the previous night.  We made friends with Fin, the Lab, and tried to steal him when his master went for a pint, and stupidly left him with us. 

There were Babies, and Princesses on Unicorns, and loads of other puppies.  There was Extreme People Watching, Security and Police, and music, and noise, and fairy lights in the trees, and cloud sitting low in the mountains, laughter, and kisses, and groans at bad jokes, and crazy ass people who sit down beside you and just want to chat. 

There was also more Creme Caramel. 

When we bimbled back along to our tent, via a WCinFIELDs stop off - the last band were still playing LOUDLY.  We were as far away from the main tent as we could be and we could still hear every vowel of Holy Moley and the Crackers.... who played loudly til midnight, and then the DJ took over til 1.

Do you have any idea what Big Country sounds like, played in a field at the top of a Scottish Loch, at full volume with 1000 people singing along with it?  Bloody Amazing! 

Night night.