Chippenham in Traditional English Weather

We here in Millbrook don't live in England. At least, not in England "proper" - this is Cornwall and it's almost an independent state, in mind if not in fact. All the same, though, we should admit that we're as used to the vagaries of this island's meteorology as the England-dwellers whom we think of as neighbours.


Friday just gone saw Mrs The Millbrooker and yours truly heading off with the Wreckers to Chippenham's famous folk festival (this is it's 40th year, believe it or not, folk fans). We pitched tent, eagerly watched by chief gongoozlers Leslie and Jennie Wrecker who had already sorted out their 'umble abode on Chippenham's fair fields.

I was busy putting up a tent, so I haven't got a shot of the pair gongoozling us. This is them doing the same thing to Tony and Howard Wrecker who arrived a short while later.


Leslie Wrecker did do very helpful guiding for Max Wrecker's campervan as it arrived, substituting the airport workers' bats with some tasteful Wrecking-coloured umbrellas.

That evening was a largely campsite-based affair involving plenty of bottled wrecker fuel... 

...and the real business began on Saturday. We danced at the Rose and Crown...

 ...we danced at the top of the High Street...

...then we had lunch. Then it was time to parade through town. It was then that the rain gods decided to have their fun. Melodeons are expensive things and their bellows are made from paper. They don't mix well with water. Luckily several kind people leapt into position with umbrellas.

And Tony Wrecker the bass player (who had his instrument securely packed into its carry-case) performed the same duties for a sodden guitarist and his beloved instrument.

So, we can probably think of the remainder of the festival as post-deluvian.


We danced at the Bridgehouse Inn. Time for a band photo, methinks.

Eventually we got an under cover dance spot, just as the sun came back out and blazed away above the marquee roof. And so we danced at the Black Horse Inn.

Saturday night followed a similar pattern to Friday. Sunday saw lots more dancing. On Monday it came down in ropes just as we were putting the tent away. Bugger. The tent is now erected and empty, slowly drying out, in our lovely neighbour Margaret's garden.


At the risk of becoming exceedingly dull here's one or two other shots, selected from the 462 that Mrs The Millbrooker kindly snapped over the weekend.


Anyone who has access to my Facebook page can see lots and lots more if the fancy takes them. Note to anyone who clicks the Facebook link - unless I have a pretty damned good idea of who you are, I won't accept any "friend requests". Unlike many FB users, I genuinely know all of my FB friends and it's going to stay that way. (New Zealand based blog followers excepted).


So - more photos. The first pint, at the Four Seasons Inn.

The stunningly good border side "Boggart's Breakfast" dancing.

The remarkably odd Britannia Coconut Dancers of Bacup.

The marvellous and very left-field Pig Dyke Molly.

And the entirely different, yet same tradition, and equally marvellous Seven Champions Molly.

One last one - I just like this shot of performers trying to catch a glimpse of another performance.

Many thank yous are owed to many people - to Max and Wrichard Wrecker for their organisational skills and tireless problem solving; to Waverley, Jay, Leslie, Jennie, Mrs the Millbrooker and everyone else who did their turn in the catering tent; to all the Wreckers for being Wreckers and doing what we do with gusto and a big grin. And to Mrs The Millbrooker (again) for being on camera and carrying-everything-around duties all weekend.


Mmm - think I'd better make sure I've got holiday booked from work next year....