Anyway, enough with plugging the facilities, and back to
criticising the bands. Sharon Shannon, despite being my mum’s absolute idol and
dubbed “ironing-music” (quite an honour) I think a 
mixture of extreme temperatures and too much time on my feet
had left me too tired to fully appreciate the show. Instead, I resorted to being
one of those rude and lazy people who lie outstretched on the floor
in the main tent, reading the newspaper and generally looking uninterested. Not
that I wasn’t interested. Pauline Scanlon joined Sharon and co. onstage for a
scared-looking but truly beautiful accompaniment. For those who don’t know,
Pauline Scanlon is quite a famous person in my household. Rewind a couple of
years ago to the Sharon Shannon’s performance at Glastonbury Festival, my mum
and I chased her at
high-speed after the set to tell her how good she was, only to find her talking
to the legendary Michael Eavis. Faced
with both Michael Eavis and
Pauline Scanlon, we chose to talk to
her over him. Good ol’ Pauline’s Red Colour Sun is probably one of the most played records in our house.
I
know for my dad, at least, Gillian Welch was the absolute
highlight of the weekend. On a technical level, I
would agree with him. Her guitarist, although I was slightly distracted by the
uncanny likeness to Vince Noir from BBC3’s The Mighty Boosh, did manage to drop
the jaws of almost every person watching that stage.
On top of that, my banjo-playing friend Beth was more than
chuffed at Gillian
Welch’s comment that
“chicks with banjos
are sexy”, a comment that I’m afraid she is never going to let us forget.
For me, however, the highlight of the entire weekend was Jimmy Cliff.
Conversations between friends and other people in the audience before he came
onstage ended in a bizarre Jimmy Cliff/Cliff Richard confusion,
and it would seem that although a lot of people didn’t know who Jimmy Cliff was,
they knew his songs when he came onstage. I knew who he was, but only after
having that same “oh that’s who does that
song!” moment at a Jimmy Cliff show last year. And, as always, he didn’t
disappoint, running through all “the hits”, as Beth Orton would say, as well as
some great reggae music from the band. He’s an artist who knows how to get the
best out of his audience, and he definitely did. The only downside to his show
would be my dad loudly announcing that the female singer he had with him was “a
bit fit”. The less said on that statement, the better.
A
nother obvious but quite ingenious feat by the Cambridge Festival
organisers is that they keep the pace of the festival in tune with the pace of
the festivalgoers. After all, Sunday being the day after the night before, very
few people were ready for another Jimmy Cliff moment any time soon.
Which is why the
organisers good-timing started the day slowly and uplifting enough to keep
everyone awake for the rest of it. Once again, I missed the start of Show Of
Hands. Every time. I’ve seen them more times than I could probably count
on my fingers but I don’t think I’ve ever once seen the beginning of a Show Of
Hands set. Maybe it’s an omen or something. Who knows?