Festival season

More than I've ever discovered in any other countries I've lived in / visited, this one goes nuts for festivals.

Every year, when March rolls around, the posters start to go up, and the emails hit inboxes. Line ups are announced, annual leave is booked off.

Of course if you're off to one of the big festivals, Glastonbury, Isle of Wight, Reading and so on, then you'll already be mid-way through planning by spring. But for those of us that feel a bit old, tired, or clean, for three days of mud, there are plenty of other options around.

So one brilliantly sunny Saturday morning, four girls took a train to a village just outside of Hastings. Broadstock is a wee festival which happens once a year, in someone's 'backyard'. They sell 300 tickets, pink cider, and hearty beefburgers; bands play the day away while the villagers, neighbours and out of towners sit around soaking up the mini-festival atmosphere. There are even apple trees. Seeing fruit on a tree is more of a novelty for a Londoner than you can probably imagine.

Once the kids go to bed, and the bands have packed up, the forested dance area opens up and DJs take over the night, until the early morn.

 

We all had a very lovely time at our very civilised, non-muddy festival where there was always enough toilets, running water, and cups of tea, on hand.