Festival Preparations

Times of TW

Festival Deckchair With Fringe On Top

By Kent Barker

So there I am behind the wheel of my ancient red tractor pulling the blue topper behind, mowing the field at the back of my house.  Tomorrow they’ll start to arrive and by Friday evening there will be between 200 and 300 cars and tents covering all available space.  Except, of course, in front of the stage.  There people will be lounging on the grass, sitting on hay-bales or, for the more sybaritic, ensconced on loungers or deck-chairs.

As a quick aside, it’s curious how the deck-chair has all but disappeared from back gardens.  My grandparents were serious aficionados.  They boasted a de-lux pair, complete with hook-on foot-rests and a natty little canopy with a tasseled fringe to keep the sun off their faces.  It’s all but impossible to find a deck-chair these days except at seriously over-priced designer shops.  And they are invariably utilitarian affairs with no frills, let alone clip-on leg rests and canopies. What has happened? I suppose, in those long-ago days of balmy summers, the sun always shone and, more importantly, there was always time to lounge on the lawn while reading an improving novel or catching up on the Sunday papers.  Why is my life not like that?

Instead, after finishing the mowing, I’ll be clearing out the barn and constructing a bar. A years worth of uncompleted projects will have to be hidden away along with the tools and implements and all those undeniably useful but-I’m-not-at-this-moment-quite-sure-what-for bits of wood and metal that I can’t bear to chuck.  But chuck them I must as ten barrels of beer will be arriving tomorrow along with cider and wine and soft drinks to slake the thirst of the ravening hordes.  Actually they’re not like that at all.  They are mostly extremely laid-back superannuated hippies down in Kent for two days of music and chilling.

It all started eight years ago when an old friend came to my birthday party.  He looked round the field and reminded me he was secretary (or something else important) of the European Grateful Dead Association.  Every year they had a get-together somewhere in the midlands to swap memorabilia and trade recordings of obscure Jerry Garcia concerts.  And they generally had one or two cover bands playing.  But they’d just lost their venue.  How would I feel about hosting a mini-festival in my field?

People who know me well are aware that I am usually open to the most bizarre suggestions and I didn’t hesitate for a moment.  Naysayers drew up lists of potential disadvantages: infuriating the neighbours with the loud music; having my field trashed and my house burgled; clearing up the rubbish afterwards etc etc. But I thought it would be fun.  And so it proved.  There is something quite wonderful about seeing a few hundred people really enjoying themselves in your field. Of course there were teething problems but now, eight years later, it all runs a bit more smoothly.  For instance the organisers hire a generator instead of hacking into the back of my fuse board and running dicey cables several hundred yards down the field.  Now a portable stage, a marquee for the mixer desk, and an assortment of portaloos arrive in advance.  For a few years I organised the food as well as running the bar.  Now a caterer takes care of that side so I can spend 48 hours pulling pints and sampling the various breweries’ offerings.

A few years back my teenage son suggested running a second stage at which up-and-coming acts could try out.  This, it turned out, seemed to be mainly he and his friends.  But we constructed a little stage (basically a shed without a front) near the bar area and now anyone can come along for an open mike session between the main acts.  There’s even a threat that our Ukelele group may do a short spot – though what Deadheads will make of us I’m not too sure.  Mind you there is a little known recording of the Teddy Bear’s Picnic by the Dead’s own Jerry Garcia along with David Grisman playing a mandolin – which is almost a Uke!

So now it’s off to Maidstone and then Hastings to collect various barrels of beer.  The main consignment will be delivered tomorrow from the Dark Star brewery in Sussex. The cognoscenti will, of course, know that Dark Star was one of the Grateful Dead’s most famous (and quite possibly, longest) tracks. There is, of course, other music on too. This year we have Julie Felix playing.  But before that the fields will need another quick mow, the bonfire and trampoline have to be organisied, I must lay out the roadways, put up signs and alert the neighbours.  Frankly I’m beginning to wonder if lounging in a deck-chair - with or without a canopy – might not be preferable.