I set out on Friday to our eighth Chagstock in a row with trepidation. The weather forecast was awful and there were monsoon conditons as I drove down the A38. When we arrived at the field poor Klaus the Knaus couldn’t muster up the momentum to get himself over to where most of the other motorhomes and camper vans were parked. ‘We stopping here.’ he seemed to say as he ground to a halt about ten metres from the gate. Not to worry. There are worse places to be stuck than the beautiful Dartmoor countryside.
On this little island of our the weather is changeable. It gives those blokes at the swanky Met Office in Exeter a run for their money. Yes, Friday was a bit of a day. For Saturday we were scheduled thunderstorms and hail. Eeek! Instead the gods smiled benevolently and aside from a couple of light showers it was dry with rather more sunshine than we ever could have hoped for. Instead of being one of those events where we avidly watched bands it was an eating, drinking, chatting kind of day with music as the backdrop. And not too many ‘Plastic Free July’ demeanours either. My festival beer mug is now three years old and serving me well. And here’s Lou who chose one of the many sin-free options from the food vans.