Last night we got back from a family camping trip to a site near the Hay Festival in Herefordshire. It was my first visit to the Festival and it was a really great family trip.
The campsite was the best I have ever been to: small, sheltered, great facilities, lovely owners, amazing views… Not even a day of heavy rain could wash away the fun we had chez tent.
We had too much fun at the best circus in the world, Giffords, which, following a health and safety warning, totally shuns modernity.
Hay-on-Wye was everything a writer and rampant bibliophile could hope for: characterful bookshops – run by fellow sufferers, bohemian street entertainment, the best people in the world… You can measure a Festival by what happens in the jostling. Everyone in Hay-on-Wye was friendly, someone saw that I had dropped one of my kid’s wellies whilst carrying him and jumped across a muddy puddle to pick it up!
I’m looking forward to next year already. I can’t wait to spend another few precious minutes eating a spicy vegetable stir-fry, whilst gazing at a book about a nineteenth century camping trip as the street is filled with the sound emanating from a man in red Jester’s shoes. He is playing a guitar and singing some wonderful nonsense about changing the world.