Sunday

The two of them have changed out of their Bagpuss characters. Nancy has lost her mouse head and James seems to have shaken off the prof.
This is essentially English folk with an antipodean lilt. It's not just the vocals, there's also something distinctly Australian that hangs on the flourishes.
This is a set that's very up-tempo in feel, if not in content. Any set that includes a song in praise of landladies and beer is alright by me. This was a set full of great songs played with spirit and vitality.
I'd not seen Nancy play live since her Eliza days and then like buses two incantations come along at once. I'm impressed, so much so that I pop out and buy the cd.
A strong series of interviewing means that I manage to miss Ron Sexsmith's second set, damn. I miss other sets as well, but I'd really wanted to catch up with Sexsmith, still you have to make these sacrifices.
I get back in time to catch the final part of Orchestra Baobab. There's something African Music on a scorching summer afternoon that seems right. For one thing they don't whine about the heat.
This has been one of the most cosmopolitan festivals for quite a few years and I'm finding it very refreshing.
Time to grab some food to fuel up for the final stint. There's also a chance to catch up with a couple of people that I've some how managed to miss so far.
John McCusker & Phil Cunningham lead off on Stage 1 with a series of Scottish Tunes. It's a relaxed, but at times mournful start. The tempo increases and more textures are laid down.
There's a surprise(?) guest in the shape of Kate Rusby. Kate infuses the next two songs with a sense of Englishness. A regular festival favourite her self, Kate adds to the levels of response from the crowd. You know something's going to be good when you get into a crowd artist, artist crowd thing and it's happening here.
Like all good sets it's over too soon. The stage crew get to work. There's a definite sense of expectation in the audience, still buzzing from the previous set.
Then the moment arrives after thirty nine years, Fairport Convention take to the Cambridge Stage for the very first time. There's a huge cheer and they haven't even played a note yet.
The set starts off with a short unaccompanied vocal piece before the whole band slip in behind it. Inside the tent bobbing rather than dancing becomes the order of the day. It's not just the traditional English reserve it's a practical thing about space, I think it's the most crowded I've seen Stage 1.
It's the hottest day of the festival and people are packed in like tightly packed things in a packed in contest. Anyway, I'm glad I'm on the outside, in a slight breeze, looking in.
This has been a festival of right time, right place and is there ever going to be a more right place for Fairport Convention to be? Ok, ok, possibly Cropredy, but that's not until next week.