Once year or so I drag myself to a music festival. If I am lucky the sun shines and the sky is blue, for at least a day. This weekend there was wall to wall sunshine across the UK. The organisers of Cornbury Festival were revelling in delight. As were us mere mortals who had gone to laze about in the bucolic Great Tew Park in Oxfordshire.
More used to supporting sheep and cattle, with the occasional interruption of the horsey set and a three day event, the parkland remained laid back and adaptable as it accepted its now annual invasion of tents, stages and LOUD music.
Hugh Cornwall’s set
Eclectic collections, of everything, people, art, music. Everything and anything goes at festivals, though this was very ‘Oxfordshire’. Calendar Girls (ok, they were from Yorkshire) would have been very at home in the Tea for Tew tent. Showers with hot water. Not usually synonymous with festival fields.
The early curfew won’t suggest serious party goers, Kean suggested that David Cameron might do something useful while he was there, and lift it… not surprisingly it didn’t happen.
Not quite Glastonbury but what with sunshine, music, food and drink who could fail to have a good time. Thank you Cornbury!
Is this love? Squeeze