When at Brighton Kite
Festival we always camp on the western edge of Stanmer Park. The
views are rather good, but it does mean that the sun is on the tents
from early in the morning, and it was rather hot and stifling by
6.30am. I was feeling a little under the weather, so I went for a
little walk around the nearby woods to see if I couldn't clear my
head.
We had a good spot of
brekkie - we always do. I offered to wash up but we had a minor
disaster. Not enough water. In previous years we've washed up in the
shower block, but last year the shower block had burned down. However
"Daddies Little Angel TM" had a
solution. Apparently "Carnie Folk" know how to get
water. For myself I had no idea what "Carnie Folk"
are; let alone how they are born diviners, but I wandered down the
hill with my empty water tank and eventually found a chap with a hose
who was filling a huge paddling pool. I asked if I might have some of
his water. I had absolutely no idea what he muttered in reply. It was
certainly in no language I've ever heard before. But he handed over
his hose and smiled as I filled my container.
I dragged water back to
camp, washed up, and fell asleep in the sunshine. I woke at 12.50pm;
ten minutes before I was supposed to be on duty. As always I'd
volunteered to help with the kiddies kite making workshop. My forte
is attaching the bridles, and we had a great time as I wound up the
children explaining that kites are like birds in that they like to
nest in trees. I told each kiddie to be sure to let their kite have a
rest in a nearby tree, and when we'd finished I saw that many of the
kiddies had taken my at my word and had put kites into trees.
Lisa and Earle left us -
they were off to Gatwick and then on to sunny somewhere. We waved
them off, and had fajitas. Very tasty. Then some beer. Then some more
beer. Then a bottle of port. Just as I was going to bed I heard
Dave's voice. So I got up again...
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