EDitorial ± 18-Jul-2011
Mid-July and the end to a logistically challenging week with Middler's daily dance rehearsals, Eldest's prom on the same day as Middler's birthday, Middler's actual dance show, and Eldest doing the full weekend at Latitude. Wanted to camp with her mates but one of the other parents wouldn't have it so we've agreed a daily late morning drop-off and midnight pick-up rota.
Going one better than last year, the seven seater is fully occupied for the Sunday shuttle to the Southwold-ish site. To a man, we're wellied up. Not too bad underfoot as we swap tickets for wristbands. That ethereal sound must be Scala, the Belgian choir who've landed the plum midday slot. They're doing Creep. They've very good. Naturally as they end their set with Have A Nice Day, the rain starts.
Managed to catch some jaunty Leisure Society and was enjoying These Are End Times until more wet stuff descended. Time for me and G to make a bid for the comedy tent: as big as it gets, it's still not big enough when a big name comes on, even more so when it's raining. We manage to squeeze in for the end of Paul Chowdry ("Does this one have bubbles?") such that we're better placed for the Izzardian Dylan Moran so that we're well situated for the heroic Mr Adam Buxton. Help The Police, indeed. Not enough space? Then maybe you shouldn't be sitting here!
Not only but also:
- well received falsetto of Everything Everything,
- not enough Ghostpoet,
- acoustic track by Foster The People in the Sky front room,
- full set by The Bees in the soggy Sunrise,
- too much Hurts,
- found that a little bit of Lykke Li goes a long way,
- ending the night with a rocking Grinderman meets Blues Brothers set by the multi-bearded Eels
- and with James Blake still playing as we came away
Thumbs up for the Sunday Times tent for providing some much-needed tea and comfy shelter; none of us dared ask Marcus Brigstocke if his book cost £1000.