Dear all,
Well I am muddy. I am in a hotel on the Isle of Wight and despite wearing wellies (which my poor comrade Mr Pound did not have, poor sod) I somehow managed to get mud on my trousers and a quite prodigous amount of mud on my banjo cases and bag and indeed my car. Still not to worry, I frankly don’t give a jot because Priddy Folk Festival and Isle of Wight Folkstation were bloody fantastic and no less. Wonderful gigs with terrific crowds, good CD sales and great atmospheres. Thanks to one and all, especially to the Isle of Wight organisers for allowing us to watch the Wimbledon final in their caravan! On that note, poor Andy Murray. He played superbly and was unlucky enough to be playing the greatest player of all time. His tears at the end of the game were very moving and I think everyone’s warmed to an admittedly sometimes difficult character just that little bit more after that. Continue reading “Mud Glorious Mud”