Cheesemaking in Devon

For the last three weeks I have been WWOOFing in North Devon at a farm that Jeni WWOOFed on three years ago. The reason that Jeni came here and one of the reasons that I did too, is because they milk sheep and make ewes' milk cheese. One of the breeds of sheep that they use is my beloved Zwartbles. For all of you who have not met my erstwhile sheep they are Dutch, black with a white blaze, white feet and a white tip to the tail, tall and very elegant looking and very milky - they are to sheep what Holsteins are to cows: the ultimate dairy animal.

Over the last few years, Lawrence has also used a Friesland ram (another Dutch milk breed but it is white) so apart from the Zwartbles ram there are no pure-bred animals left in the flock, but they still produce a lot of milk. This year he is also introducing a British Milk Sheep ram to the flock (this looks very similar to the Friesland), so it will be interesting to see what that produces.

Lawrence and Karen split their jobs in quite a traditional manner - Lawrence does most of the work with the stock and Karen produces the cheese and markets it at various Farmers' Markets in the area, so I have tried to divide my time between the two areas, although there has not been much to do on a daily basis with the animals.

The day after I arrived I helped to milk the sheep which is very similar to milking cows in that the sheep all come into a milking parlour where they are given some pellets to keep them happily occupied while we clean their teats and afix the clusters. Then, when they are milked they are allowed to leave and the next bunch file in. There is one big advantage to milking sheep that I can see at first glance - you do not get swished in the face with a dung-covered tail as you put on the clusters! Unfortunately for me, this was the last milking of the year as the rams were due to go out at the beginning of November so the ewes were 'dried off'. I was very pleased that I got to see it done, though.

Wednesdays are Cheese Making Days, and Karen kindly allowed me to help her in the dairy ( a concession not offered to all WWOOFers, apparently). The whole day is taken up with the cheese making taking an average of eight hours from when the milk is put in the vat to finishing putting it in the moulds. Also, you have to be scrupulously clean so this means completely clean clothes, no touching the dogs or cats, and putting on a white coat, disposable apron and hair net in the dairy. First of all the milk is heated and stirred until it reaches a set temperature and then starter culture is added. After a short while (in which we usually made it back to the house for a cup of tea) the rennet is added and within a short space of time the curds appear. the whole mass is then cut with curd knives into small cubes which gradually sink into the whey. The whey is then drained off and the resulting mass cut into wedges and heaped up to drain for a bit longer. (At this point, we would go in for a quick lunch). The solid curds are then broken up into small pieces by hand before being pressed into cheesecloth-lined moulds and weights applied. This, however, is not the end of the process as the cheeses have to be turned for several days and each time they have to be removed from the moulds, unwrapped, turned over, rewrapped with clean cloths and put back in the moulds until they are ready to go into the cheese room for storage where they still need to be turned every week. I really enjoyed being involved in this task and we had some wonderful wide-ranging conversations as we worked.

On the animal side of things, I have helped to move the Devon Red cattle to their winter fields across the lane from the farm, and I also helped to sort out the lambs from the flock and take them to the same fields as the grass is quite lush and will easily sustain them all for a while. We then divided up the ewes into four groups for the various rams (they also have a flock of Shetland sheep) and put them in seperate fields. All of this work has been made much easier because Lawrence has three border collies, two of whom are pretty good sheep dogs (the third is a bit too keen at the moment and tends to cause a degree of chaos if not watched closely!) I have also been helping to look after a couple of poorly lambs by cutting ivy for them. They are both now doing much better and may be fit to rejoin their mates in a week or so.

I have also been included in Lawrence's and Karen's lives in other ways too, as they have taken me to the open mic nights at their local pub in Lee on Friday evenings and also to a folk concert in the village hall which was very good. Karen and I also went to the monthly Stitch 'n' Bitch evening in the pub too, where I started knitting squares again (not sure my knitting capabilities are up to much more, especially if I'm chatting at the same time!). On the first Sunday that I was here I helped Karen at the North Devon Foodfest in the Barnstaple Pannier Market (so called because the goods for the market used to be brought in from the farms in panniers on horseback) and then again at her regular Friday Farmers' Market in the same venue. She not only sells cheese but also organic knitting wool and organic sheepskins all from their own animals.

I have loved my time here and feel quite reluctant to leave this Victorian farmhouse and its various occupants - perhaps three weeks is too long to stay as I start to feel as if I belong, and that would never do! Ah well - onward and upward - or in this case - southward as I continue my journey by going to Launceston in Cornwall for the next two weeks.

Poem

MORPHO

The butterfly flitters past in the dappled forest light, blue wings in flight

Irridescent, glowing, going on its journey through life.

I run, I follow, through glades of singing green and sandy tracks, and scrubby tracts of land.

It shows me white stuccoed villages, long, sun-drenched vineyards, distant blue mountains, fountains in ancient squares.

I run, I follow, intent on the chase

At last I catch it in my net and hold it, fold it in my hand lest it escape.

I feel its fluttering life force trembling, morse code of panic sending vibrations through my fingers

I linger to admire its perfection, each wing scale a perfect mirror of the world, radiant blues and greens like peacock feathers.

I could gather it, snuff out its life, pin it to my board and bring it home.

Alone, it would hang, sharp mockery of its life, scales fading in the cold English sun, an empty husk, no longer an 'unformed being' as in Paraguayan folklore.

Before I can form reason, I open my hand and let it go.

It glows, flies, flickers and shimmers through the dimness of the forest, where at last, it turns, changes and morphs into a red-haired girl who lifts a hand in acknowledgment of my love before disappearing.

No unformed being now, but a free spirit.

Summer's End in The Slad Valley

I entered the Slad Valley on a soaking wet Friday morning. The rain was lashing down so hard that at times the wipers could barely cope. I was extremely grateful that it was only a twenty minute drive from my Mum's house, but even so, not knowing the road terribly well I drove like a novice, slowing at every bend and downhill section, especially as I knew I was looking for a tiny turning somewhere in Slad but I wasn't sure just where. When I finally spotted it I had to turn really sharp left and then immediately the lane plunged down the side of the valley and up the other side and was only wide enough for one car. It was quite a relief to find the farm, and I donned my waterproof jacket and ran to the front door. By the time I made anyone hear, I was already quite damp and more than ready for the cup of coffee that was offered.



After coffee I was launched into my new placement with a vengeance! Firstly, we put the seven ponies out in the field, then I got to muck out the stables and empty the wheelbarrow on the muck heap which is across the road from the yard and through a field gate. All this time 'the rain it was a raining' and I was glad that I'd put on my wellies. After that Sarah had a meeting with a couple of people ("I'll be about half an hour") so pointed me in the direction of a pumpkin and some onions and asked me to prepare them, put them in a roasting tin with some olive oil and put them in the Aga to prepare a base for some soup that she will be making for a catering job that she is doing at the end of October. She also mentioned that she was going to do a leek and potato soup too, and then she disappeared for the rest of the afternoon! After I'd done the pumpkin, etc I was at a bit of a loose end as everyone seemed to have disappeared, then three very bedraggled people turned up looking for Paul, so I pointed them in the direction of the large green barn which was the last place I'd seen him, and then a girl turned up to say was it OK to put her stuff in the caravan? I said it probably was if she'd already agreed this with Sarah. She introduced herself as Rosie and I had to suppress a smile - well we are in Laurie Lee country and he did write 'Cider with Rosie'! After that I decided I might as well prepare the leek and potato soup base too so hunted around the kitchen until I found everything I needed and got stuck in.

I certainly felt as if I'd been parachuted into an unknown territory and had to hit the ground running! Doing this 'job' you are catapulted into people's lives: some of them stop and carefully explain the ins and outs of their set up, what jobs need doing and your part in the overall picture; and others, like Sarah and Paul carry on with the story of their lives, complete with ups and downs, minor disasters and catastrophes and somehow expect you to slot in and merge with it whilst assimilating information as you go. It's sometimes alarming but never dull, and I like to feel that I've risen to the challenge!

The second day that I was here, the weather was really warm and sunny, but the ground was still sodden. For most of the day I picked apples in the orchard. The orchard is situated in front of the farm on a slope that runs down into a dry valley and I was picking apples into a bucket and then transferring them to crates by the orchard gate. There were approximately three bucketsful of apples to the crate and I picked five crates. At the end of the day I loaded the crates one at a time onto the wheelbarrow and pushed this across another paddock, up a slope through a gateway to the green barn where they were to be stored until there were enough to go to the apple juice bottler a few miles away towards Gloucester. By then I was getting tired so decided to load the two final crates together onto the wheelbarrow. All was going well until I stopped to open the gate out of the paddock. When I tried to push the wheelbarrow forward my feet started to slip on the mud in the gateway, I paddled furiously for a few seconds until the inevitable happened and I fell face down in the mud. Unfortunately, I was still holding onto the wheelbarrow handles so, as I fell I catapulted two crates of apples over my head (remember that's six buckets full) and then had to watch as they rolled away down the hill! I heaved myself to my feet, brushed off as much mud as I could and picked up every single apple and repacked them in the crates before staggering back to the house to change - was I going to survive two weeks?

On the third day I was here I weeded and pruned the front border by the house with the help of Rosie who is attending a course at Cirencester Agricultural College and staying in the caravan in exchange for one day a week work on the farm. Strangely enough, she comes from Cheddar and went to the same school as Dave and Jeni, although she is a bit younger and doesn't remember them. The day started off really wet and I had on full waterproof gear especially as I was pushing into sopping wet shrubs, but by lunchtime it had cleared up and got quite warm. By the end of the day we had created an impressive pile of weeds and woody material from just a small area of garden, but when Sarah came back from her course, she didn't think I'd been hard enough!

As part of their farm diversification, Paul and Sarah have set up a market garden area that is manned by volunteers on a Thursday and sometimes on a Tuesday, in return for a box of seasonal vegetables, so I have been assigned to work with them a couple of times. They are a lovely bunch of people and made me feel very 'included' and I have really enjoyed my time with them harvesting and weeding in the polytunnels. There are also several other enterprises on the farm that I have not been directly involved with, namely a small pasty business (not small pasties, a small business!) and a firewood business using some wood from their 40 acres of woodland but also some timber that they buy in and cut up.

I have also helped with the animals: putting out the ponies and mucking them out several times; helping to move the beef youngstock to a new field after being wormed (luckily they had a cattle crush and some gates all set up but it was still a long, hot job); turning over and foot trimming 37 sheep which was exhausting as it was just Sarah and me doing it with some help manning the gates from a lady and her teenaged son. In fact, after coming out of that relatively uninjured, I was so tired that I slipped in the bath and smacked my arm on the edge of the bath causing a bruise of impressive size and colour!

I had the day off on the first Wednesday I was here and managed to arrange to meet up with my childhood friend, Carol and her husband, Pete, who live on the other side of Stroud. We had a lovely time together and took her dog for a walk on a nearby common which has stunning views across to the River Severn and beyond. We haven't spent much time together since we were adults and it was lovely to find out that we still get on really well. Strangely enough, she and her family had spent many summer holidays at Lee Bay near Ilfracombe which is where I am going next - small world isn't it?

On my second day off, Saturday, I met up with my sister, her husband, my niece and my Mum at Stroud and went to the excellent Farmers' Market that they have there. The place was heaving! Then we went off to Painswick for lunch and then, as it was such a dull and chilly day, we headed back to Cheltenham for the afternoon and evening and my sister drove me back to Slad after dinner.

Apart from a couple of days of rain and one very cloudy, overcast day, the weather these last two week has been amazing and I have quite often just been working in T-shirt and trousers. On 12th October the contractors turned up and cut three fields for silage, which doesn't often happen so late in the year. I took a couple of photos and they could almost have been taken in midsummer as the sky is so blue and cloudless, only the slight changes in the colours of the trees gives a clue that autumn is really here.

It's certainly been 'all go' on this farm but I have thoroughly enjoyed most of it. I have met some lovely and 'interesting' people and have felt very embraced by the Stroud area - perhaps that's because it's not far from where I was born and grew up and so feels familiar or whether it just is a really welcoming place generally - I shall certainly return here, probably at the beginning of April to help Sarah with the lambing before I move further northwards again for the summer.

St Francis of The Valleys?

I have just returned to Mum's again from a two week stay in Cwmbran with my aunty, Jen - actually, she isn't a real aunty either! Complicatedly she is the niece of my step-grandmother so I think that makes her some sort of cousin-by-marriage, if such a thing exists! She has just undergone major back surgery and, although she can stand up, walk about and lie down, she is not allowed to sit upright for more than twenty minutes at a time and musn't bend down. As she lives alone this makes day-to-day living pretty difficult, especially as she is not allowed to drive for at least six weeks. So, off I went to help with cooking, shopping etc.

I've had a lovely time as, yet again, I have never spent any time just in Jen's company and as she was a very talented English and Drama teacher before she retired, we have had some good literary discussions, plus a few rants about the education system. I am definitely turning into a 'grumpy old woman'! Jen is Welsh by birth but doesn't naturally have a very strong accent but she had me in stitches with her impersonations of the 'typical' little Welsh woman.

I'd only ever been to Jen's house once before and if you have ever gone to Cwmbran you will know that the planners like their roundabouts in that part of the world! I made at least three detours on my way there and only realised that I was approaching Jen's house because I saw the transit van belonging to 'Tom Brown, Speedway Rider' parked opposite and I knew his parents were Jen's neighbours - being an ex-speedway fan has its advantages, sometimes!

One of the other things I noticed from my Google directions was that I was to drive along Five Locks Road. When I asked Jen why it was called that she told me that there was a canal there - I seem to be attracted to these waterways, don't I? It was the Brecon and Monmouthshire Canal and the first Sunday I was there I went for a walk along the towpath which is tarmaced for most of it's length and very well used by cyclists, dog walkers and walkers. I walked for one and a half hours in one direction and then turned and walked back - the sun was shining and the moorhens and ducks were scooting about in the reeds and huge shoals of fish (roach, I think) were basking in the sunshine just below the surface. Of course, one of the big advantages of canal towpaths is that they are relatively gradient-free so there are no huge hills to climb and there are sometimes pubs where you can stop and enjoy a quiet drink! On the second Sunday I was there I drove to another section nearer to Abergavenny and had a walk there too. There were a couple of narrowboats for sale and some that looked very forlorn as if they hadn't been visited for a long time. Did you know you can buy narrowboats on eBay?

One morning, Jen noticed that the large Golden Orf in her pond were gathered at one end of the pond and looking distressed. The pump had become disconnected from the filter hose the week before and so the water had not been flowing, via the filter, down the little waterfall, so I reconnected it. Then she noticed a dead fish on the bottom of the pond. I fished it out with the net and as I pulled it out I saw a very faint mouth movement, so we quickly got a small container, filled it with pond water and popped the fish in where it lay disconsolately on its side at the bottom. Never one to say 'die' (I have been known to give mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to a piglet, unfortunately with no success) I got the plastic outer casing of a Bic biro and spent the next couple of hours (or possibly more) bubbling air into the container to try to get more oxygen to the little chap, whilst trying to remember to take a few breaths for myself to stop me hyperventilating! Amazingly, after a few hours the little fish started to swim about more or less upright and seemed on the way to recovery so I popped him back into the pond where he made had made a full recovery by the next day. Before you ask how I knew he was the same fish I have to tell you that he was the only white fish in the pond and now goes by the proud name of Lazarus! I know you all suspected I was mad before and I suppose this story now confirms that but, hey! it was just great to save a little life and Jen was thrilled to bits.

On Wednesday, I left Cwmbran after issuing Jen with dire warnings about returning if I heard that she hadn't been careful of her back, and drove back through the Forest of Dean. On the spur of the moment I decided to call in at the first place that I had wwoofed to see how they were doing. I was made very welcome and stopped for a cup of tea and a chat about my various adventures, and guess what?............. those piglets that I weaned survived and are now out in the paddock with the others!! Result!

I now have a week in Cheltenham in which to sort out my winter clothes and pack away my summer ones before I head off to Stroud and a 150 acre farm - after all my garden weeding through the summer a full-blown farm could be a bit of a challenge, so watch this space........

'Unofficial' WWOOFing!

On Bank Holiday Monday I returned to my Mum's house in Cheltenham (aka base camp) where I was staying overnight. In the afternoon of the Bank Holiday we went to a lovely flower festival in a Saxon church at a place called Deerhurst just the other side of Gloucester. We were very lucky with the weather and the flower displays were awesome - I have no idea how people can create such fantastic arrangements and with a theme, too.

On Tuesday morning I did a quick re-pack of the car and headed back to Oxfordshire to Kidlington, just outside Oxford to stay with my aunt and uncle (actually, we worked it out that my aunt is actually my second cousin, I think - I find all these relationship things very tricky to work out!). Neither my aunt nor my uncle are enjoying the best of health at the moment, so I volunteered to go and help out in a sort of 'unofficial' wwoofing capacity, to try and get the garden straight for the winter and sort out the garden shed in return for board and lodging. It was really nice to spend some time with them as I have never really known them on an adult-to-adult basis - I think the last time I went on a family visit was when I was in my teens! Of course, we have met up at a few family functions since then, but I've never stayed with them before.

Strangely enough, they are quite near to the Oxford Canal and I went off for a wander along the tow path one afternoon and ended up walking miles. I assisted a couple of chaps through one of the locks and they offered me a lift to Thrupp where they had a cottage and their mooring, but I declined as I didn't know how far it was and obviously I'd have to walk back. Typically, I ended up walking all the way to Thrupp anyway, where I stopped and had a cuppa at a little cafe before walking back the way I'd come! I was very glad that I'd remembered, once again, to take a bottle of water with me - I must be improving.

This morning I re-packed the car again and retraced my steps to Cheltenham across the Cotswolds. Once more the sky was a hazy, autumnal blue and the sun was turning all the cottages and the standing straw in the fields to gold, and the tapestry of little fields folded away from me on either side of the road. As I came down the A40 into Cheltenham behind a car doing 50mph I reflected on the fact that about 40 years ago I came down this same gently curving road at 100mph riding pillion on my boyfriend's BSA! The last time I did a similar thing was 20 years ago on the road across the top of the Mendips - different bike, different boyfriend! I see a pattern emerging here - perhaps it's time I did it again? Just to prove I've still got the bottle!!

Tomorrow, after another quick stopover in Cheltenham, I am off to another aunty in Cwmbran who has just had major back surgery and needs someone to help her out for a couple of weeks - that should keep me gainfully occupied until I start my next 'official' wwoof assignment in Stroud at the beginning of October.

The last days of summer

For the last two weeks I have been working at a village called Culworth near Banbury for a lady who owns about an acre of ground equally divided between garden and paddock. In one corner of the paddock is a duck pond which is home to her eight ducks, and then there are two poultry houses for the sixteen chickens which free range everywhere during daylight hours.

My regular jobs were to let out and feed the poultry in the morning and to make sure they were all securely shut in at night, weed various borders, clip overgrown bushes and I also rebuilt a little stone wall around a raised bed. A couple of the hens sussed out that when I went out armed with a fork to do battle with the couch grass, they were in for a treat if they stuck close to me - I have never seen such big worms disappear down a throat so fast! Some of the time I was in danger of stabbing the hens with the fork tines as they darted in to grab a juicy morsel from right under where I was working.

Culworth is a very pretty village with most of the houses built of the local sandstone which is a deep ochre colour with occasional red stones and grey stones mixed in. Many of the houses have steeply sloping roofs which, I think, usually indicates that they were once thatched and, because the village was situated on an important sheep drove from the Midlands to Banbury, there are a disproportianate number of large, impressive houses - Culworth Hall, Culworth Manor, Culworth Court, etc. The church is also quite large for a relatively small village and sits next to 'Culworth Castle' which is a hillock and ditch where a Norman castle once stood. In the churchyard there is an interesting tombstone to one 'Charles Bacchus (An African)' and there is some debate over whether he was a slave or not - he definitely worked as a servant for a family and was well thought of, but it seems odd that they should have spent such a lot of money having a tombstone erected in his memory.

The weather while I was there was very changeable and we had some torrential rain and thunderstorms (Oxfordshire does seem to be good at those) and some days I would be unable to garden for the whole day. On one particularly wet day, Juliet took me to visit another lady who is an unofficial Wwoof host. I had seen her adverts for help in the back of the Wwoof News and was intrigued to see what her setup was like. I mentioned her to Juliet and it turned out that she knew her a little bit as she did furniture restoration and had repaired a coffee table for her. We set off across country going down smaller and smaller lanes until we stopped next to a very hump-backed bridge where there was a little car park. From the car park we took a small path that led onto the towpath of the Oxford Canal and then, about a quarter of a mile along the path, we came to Phoebe's house - it's a lock keeper's cottage! Phoebe has grand ideas for her new vegetable garden but has neither the time nor the energy to devote to it as she has to work during the week, hence the need for wwoofers. I was glad to have made contact and will keep in touch in case she needs anyone next August time when Cropredy is creeping round again.

On another of my days off, which turned out to be very warm and sunny, I spent quite a lot of time mooching about the canal basin in Banbury watching the boats going up and down through the lock - some more expertly than others! Then I drove back through Cropredy and mused on how different the weather can be in this country over the space of a week.

I left Culworth after breakfast on Bank Holiday Monday and drove back through the beautiful Cotswold countryside. There was a definite autumnal bite in the air, the sky was an unbroken blue and most of the corn had been harvested from the fields. I became quite reflective and decided that I really like this nomadic way of life: every two weeks or so you pack up and move on with your host's appreciation echoing in your head. Jeni says that she needs to feel appreciated to feel good about herself and I suppose this is true for all of us - I know that when I worked in an office a simple 'thank you for your efforts' (I can count on the fingers of one hand how many times that happened in five years) made me glow, so having my praises sung every two weeks and invitations to return whenever I can, is going a long way to boosting my confidence and in two weeks no-one can discover the huge flaws in my character!

Rain!

I have experienced so little rain since I started my wanderings that I'd almost forgotten how rare a prolonged dry spell is in Britain in the summer. Silly me! OK, so we'd had the odd spot of rain in Cheltenham and the skies were pretty overcast but for the most part it was all right and Mum and I went to an open gardens near Gloucester one day and over to see friends near Stroud another and the weather was fine. However, Cropredy was something else altogether!

My Mum drove me to Stow-0n-the-Wold on Thursday morning and we parked in the Tesco (ugh!) car park and waited for my sister and her husband to arrive from Sheffield. They arrived at 9.15 and we were soon on our way to our agreed meeting point with the rest of the gang. This ritual has been going on for many years and gets more elaborate as the years go by. So that we don't get split up before we get to the camping field (if you're not together when you arrive you can't pitch your tents together) window pennants are issued and this year magnetic signs, too to go on the bonnet, and then off we went in convoy. We managed to avoid being split up at junctions by some pretty aggressive driving techniques and arrived in Cropredy all in a line. At this point the weather was overcast and a bit chilly but dry, so we managed to erect our tent and inflate our airbeds without too many problems, then we all gathered for a communal picnic lunch before heading down to the festival field which opened at 3pm.

To make sure that our group gets a prime position on the hill in front of the stage we have queuers (the older ones, usually) who stand in the queue and runners (the twenty-somethings) who run like the wind as soon as the gates open and bag our pitch by laying out a groundsheet and standing on it until the rest of the party turns up with chairs, food and a cool box full of beer! It's like a military operation but it works.

Many people think that Cropredy is a folk festival, but it has a very eclectic mix of music - the band headlining on Thursday evening was Status Quo and they were pretty awesome. I did a bit of dancing as it was the best way to keep warm with the temperature plummeting once the sun set, and thoroughly enjoyed their set. By the time they left the stage at 11.00 it was really cold and I ended up sleeping in three layers of clothing with the hood of my sweatshirt up and I was still cold! I don't think I'm cut out for camping.



The next day saw a repeat performance of the queue/run scenario but by this time it was raining so we all donned our waterproofs and sat with water dripping off us surrounded by huge brollies that pretty much obscured the stage. The music was still good and interesting and Lynda and I went for a walk round the village and along the canal to stretch our legs in the afternoon, although we did have to take shelter under a canal bridge when the heavens opened!



The weather forecast for Saturday was diabolical and it lived up to the prediction with knobs on! I'd been feeling quite smug as I sat there dressed head to toe in waterproofs as the rain lashed down but I had this sudden unpleasant feeling of dampness and when I stood up I found I'd been sitting in a puddle(not of my own making, I hasten to add!) and my waterproof trousers weren't - I was soaked all the way through and felt very uncomfortable, so had to walk all the way back to the tent and change into some dry clothes. I discarded the 'waterproof' trousers in disgust and went back to the stage field. At 8pm we headed off to get some food and settled on a rather nice-looking curry with samosas, etc. Just as we started to eat the heavens opened and by the end of my meal there was more liquid on my cardboard plate than when I'd started! At this point I announced my decision to quit the field of battle and go back to the tent as I knew I couldn't stand up for another four hours and as soon as I sat down I'd be soaked to the skin again - so I didn't see Fairport at all, just listened to them from the relative comfort of my sleeping pod in the tent. I was quite glad I was there later 'cos there was an almighty thunderstorm just to round off the evening!



On the Sunday morning it was misty but this soon burnt off and it got really hot and sunny as we were packing up our tents - typical. However, as I wished everyone 'safe journey' and 'see you next year' I realised that I meant it, despite the weather, as the company and the experience were great - I shall just have to make sure that I have really waterproof clothing next time!