Cambridge Diary 2006
Alice Ralph
Friday
8:45am
I was so exhausted on Thursday night that I can barely remember
crawling into bed. Despite a reasonable nights sleep (my mother and I have
discovered the necessities of eye-masks and ear-plugs when camping – mostly to
protect ourselves from my Dad’s snoring and the site of each-other crawling out
of bed the next morning) I am still suffering from extreme fatigue. We head for
civilisation, or at least Sainsbury’s café, and stock up on vegetarian
breakfasts, beer, humous and bread; the key to survival. We return to the
campsite, where washing of hair commences, employing a variety of camping mugs
and plastic bowls. Whoever said that today’s youth is a generation of
Playstation-addicts and sofa-louts was terribly mistaken. Look how resourceful
we are!
1:30pm
My mother has already fought her way to the front of the main tent
with her blanket by this point, so we join her in time for the end of the Anna
Massie Band set, at which point we promptly leave Mum to baby-sit our beer and
head off to explore the stalls by daylight. I look jealously at the sitars for
sale, but then remember the various mandolins, drums, ukuleles and other
unplayed instruments sitting at home and think twice. We return for Tift
Merritt, who is the first artist of the weekend that we really see. As my father
pointed out, it is a good thing that she was so ugly or it may have distracted
from the quality of the music.
4:30pm
As I have the privilege of a media pass (I wear it around all
weekend with pride, hoping people will mistake me for somebody of some
importance) I join the rest of the photographers at the media caravan in time to
photograph Seth Lakeman. Unfortunately, we are only allowed in the photographers
pit for the first three numbers, which is as long as it takes for him to whip
out his fiddle (but not his facial expressions) so I have nothing fiddle-related
to show my Seth-obsessed friend Imi when I return. I do, however, remember the
sign that she wrote and held up during his set at Larmer Tree Festival (“DO YOU
WANNA SHOW ME HOW YOU FIDDLE?”) and vow to have him sign it for her before the
weekend is over.
7:00pm
Bea and I find the river at Cherry Hinton, where we make friends
with some geese and listen to the music floating over from somebody’s tent. Life
is good.
9:00pm
We have been ordered by my parents to the main tent, and we arrive
just in time for the obligatory viewing of Richard Thompson. I don’t know his
songs (I mistakenly announce this loud enough for a small hoard of surrounding
fanatics to turn round and glare at me in disgust) but he seems quite the
highlight of the festival for a lot of people.
10:25pm
For me, the musical highlight of the day is Amadou & Miriam
who are led slowly into the limelight by stagehands. I prove once again that I
haven’t done my homework (“they’re blind?”) and the whole tent is packed for
their beautiful African music. After yesterdays downpour and today’s soaring
temperatures, it is the perfect music to end the evening.
11.30pm
Bea and I decide not to make the same mistake twice, and opt for
the bus home tonight. Back at the campsite we stick our head into the open mic
tent just to catch the end of a man who is singing in a slightly out-of-key
out-of-time voice. Time for bed.