Port Eliot

I don't do festivals these days.

Yes, when I was younger I went to Glastonbury a couple of times, Reading when I lived there, and of course Ashton Court for a couple of hours at a time. But these days, I don't do festivals. The last few times I have tried, like Green Man in 2010 and Trowbridge before that, I've just not enjoyed. I don't know whether it's the oppresion of the crowds or the relentlessness of the activities, but they've made me miserable.

But Port Eliot was very different, so I relaxed and had a good time. The music was not supplied by big names, but was varied. I danced to electronica and bhangra. I listened to rock and folk and country and mixtures of them all. And there were the solo artists, the string quartet and the brass band. 

It was the other stuff that made it more stimulating, the talks on science & the media, Anglo-Indian history, Greek philosophy, foraging for wild food, pornographic comics and the evils of maize. And talks by poets and authors, and swimming in the muddy brackish waters of the river. We ate well on curry, scallops and tagine. (Not simultaneously).

The sun shone.

It was a great weekend. 

:o)