12 June 2009 (Friday) – To Teston (Again)

To Teston Kite Festival. My fifteenth time, and the thirteenth at which I’ve camped. We set off reasonably promptly and arrived at mid day. In years gone by, getting to Teston at mid day meant that we used to be the first to arrive. Not any more - we arrived to find several people already ensconced. Mind you, I maintain that it pays to arrive early – I usually reckon on taking six hours to get the campsite set up. Tents up, tables out, cooking gear unpacked, water fetched, banners up… the list of jobs is endless. This time we did the lot in two and a half hours. There was a minor hiccup with Tony’s tent – he asked me where it was. I had no idea, and flippantly suggested it was where he left it. He’d left it at the farm nine months ago, and was assuming I had picked it up with the rest of the camping gear on Wednesday. Whoops.
A few beers later it was tea time, and a smashing bit of tea it was too, despite my cooking some of the ingredients. A few more beers, and things became pleasantly vague. So pleasantly in fact that at one point I found myself having the difference between boy-types and girl-types explained to me. That was a revelation. As darkness fell, so the illuminated kites took to the skies and the port was passed around. There’s something about camping that makes people want rice pudding in the dark, and tonight was no exception. Sabrina had orders to be in bed by midnight, so at 11.30pm the rice pudding was cooked. It was amazing how many people wanted rice pudding.

Shortly after midnight there was an invasion from a neighbouring camp, explaining how their next child was to be named “Teston Toffee” – “Teston” after the location, and “Toffee” after the vodka she’d just got trollied on. When a nudey jog around the field was proposed, it was time to call it a day, and go to kip.

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