13 July 2014 (Sunday) - Still in Brighton

After many years reflection I have come to the conclusion that (for me) the most depressing sound is that of rain on a tent. I woke several times during the night to hear rain. Mind you I wasn't woken by the wild children of the Red Cross Campsite. I was reliably informed that "words had been had". It was just as well they were quiet - Feiglong had taken its toll.

We breakfasted in the rain; the rain was a good test for the event shelter. The thing seemed to leak a little along the seams; I shall squander some of the astro club's money on getting it proofed. But the rain didn't last much after mid morning, and soon the sky was again full of kites. And having made a point of staying awake for the morning I was at the kiddies kite making workshop with plenty of time to take up my regular position of second bridler.
The kiddies were much the same as ever; forty five per cent are so painfully shy they will not say a word. Another forty five percent are vacant; seriously vacant. So much so that you could poke them with a needle and get no reaction. But ten per cent of the kiddies appreciated what we were doing and made it all worth while. Before long we could see loads of our home-made workshop kites in the sky.
I was rather shocked to hear that Birghton Kite Fliers have been unable to find a sponsor to keep the kiddies kite workshop going. If any of my loyal readers know of any potentian sponsors, let me know - I'll have a word with the right people.

Aftere a minor altercation with a dalek I went back to camp. Quite a few people go home when the festival ends on the Sunday afternoon. We said our goodbyes; and then after a rather good bit of bit of spag bol for tea quite a few of those who who were staying joined us for a rather good evening. It all got rather vague (for the third night running) and we even had rice pudding...

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