ScottFest 2010

Move over Glasto! The kids and I headed to ScottFest last Saturday.

The weather order was filled perfectly. Blue skies, huge fluffy white clouds and no breeze.

We got there early and set-up the prettiest tent in the universe and while the terences went off to explore I sat and read the paper CK had packed for me.

One of the dads took great delight in teaching d/Boy to ride a motorbike. My boy was a bit wobbly to start but after the first circuit of the showgrounds he got it and was off. Ride like the wind Bullseye!

Princess Curly-Wurly took full advantage of the mahoosive blow-up assault course and the stilts (Although fortunately NOT at the same time. No broken legs here thanks.) before comandeering the quad bike and pegging it around the perimeter of the venue as fast as she could. My heart was in my mouth the entire time until she took me on a ride and I realised 'as fast as she could' was not the same as 'as fast as the quad will go'.

Despite packing two bedrolls, three pillows, one mahoosive airbed, three sleeping bags, two duvets, two double thickness fleece blankets, a basket of warm clothes to wear as the evening approached, jammies, loo roll, knitting, drawing paper and pencil, food to keep the troops going through until breakfast including my assistant, water for us all, a deckchair for me and picnic blanket for the rest (breath) two trips were required back up the hill. The first was for more food and water. The second for CK's spare set of car keys because I was sure I had locked his in the boot. The alternative was too dreadful to consider.

The whole event was chilled out and relaxed with people taking it in turns to cook, tend to children, mix and pour drinks. There was a marquee put up so that the evening's entertainment (Nick Tatham) had somewhere to sit while he played and a fire pit for us all to stand around and toast marshmallows once he had finished.

One of my arch-nemesis was there and put his mono-pod (or eco-pod or some such stupid name for a solid-sided domed tent) right in front of my prettiest-tent-in-the-universe. Within about five minutes he came across all smiley, hippy-happy and said

'Can't we be friends? I hate having to avert my eyes when I see people.'

'I'm not the one who said I don't like Australians' says I sunglasses down, attitude high.

'Oh you shouldn't take any notice of that. I'm a South African. (WTF?!?) Friends?' as he stretched out his hand.

Again he said 'Friends?'

Sunglasses still on I agreed and shook his hand, all the while grimacing on the inside.

d/Boy was getting quite tired by 10pm so after making the mahoosive trek to the far end of the Showgrounds and using the real loos (glamping all the way here baby) he, my assistant and I retired for the night. After a 20 minute struggle with the bedding mountain we fell asleep. Princess C-W crawled in at 11.30!

We slept well until half 3 when the requisite night-time wee was required. Of course I could not find the lead so had to hold my assistant while excavating a very sleepy d/Boy from the bedding mountain then around the back of the tent for a wee rather than head to the other end of the field. All relatively straight forward until my bladder decided it too needed to experience the full joy of camping so still holding my assistant I had to undertake all aspects of outdoor weeing with one free hand.

The whole experience was exacerbated by the proximity of the tent to a boarding kennels. My assistant was wriggling like a lunatic and growling through my hand clamped around her jaw all while d/Boy was standing admiring the bazillion stars visible in the cloud-free sky. As we settled back inside the blanket mountain that d/Boy turned to me and said 'I don't like camping.'

We shall see next Summer my boy, we shall see.