Farewell

This is the entrance to the Kidz Field, taken on my way back to my tent in the small hours. The scaffolding to hold this up was erected two days before the festival started and the entrance itself was put up on day minus-one. This is where the ribbon was cut at midday on Thursday to let hundreds of excited children in to explore the music, the storytelling, the circus, the drama, the jokes, the science (soda rockets and cyanotypes, among other things), the huge castle climbing frame, the helter skelter, the sandpit and very much else. The person you can just make out sitting under the arch is our security person, checking that anyone who comes into the field out of hours has the correct pass. I think it's a grim job: awake all night with none of the fun.

I'd managed to get just enough data signal before I went to sleep around 2.30 to check the forecast and discover that we were due rain at mid-day so I got up in good time to take down my tent while it was still dry. I have never taken so long to take down and pack up my tent - I was so tired and lethargic.  But it really is the last, last, last time. The only other people in our group sleeping in such a small tent were 40 years younger than me. Even those 30 years younger had roomier tents. I know I've said this many times before but if I camp again it will be in a tent I can stand up in; this tent will be donated to Secondborn as soon as I've had a chance to clean it.

I discovered later that most of the others hadn't got back until 8am, hours after sunrise, so when they finally emerged they were also very slow. Once almost all the personal tents were down, we emptied the music tent and packed away the instruments, dismantled the kitchen, then lounged around on the grass (the rain was minimal) waiting and waiting until the queues of cars trying to get off the site diminished. Firstborn and I, without a vehicle, were juggling the possibilities of getting to Bristol by public transport until our two cooks kindly offered to drop us off there on their way back to Bangor. They had no room for our baggage but another car going to Bristol offered to take that for us. Kind folk.

We got to Firstborn's at 8pm and I fell fast asleep. I woke at 10pm to find our luggage had been delivered and I joined Firstborn in front of some TV Euro penalties. I have almost no understanding of football and less interest but back in January I was fascinated by the National Theatre's production of 'Dear England' about psychology in football, so I donated fifteen minutes of my life to watching stress and trauma before going back to bed.