The biggest date on the calendar for most people every year is the Alpine Beard Festival (yes, it is real). But for those with modest facial hair (Erin has not had much success here) we head out for the Cambridge folk festival in July, me wearing a weak effort of a beard by alpine standards.
Coincidentally the Cambridge folk festival is held in Cambridge, just north of London. For more than 30 years now it has been operated each year by the local council, this despite innumerable, hostile takeover attempts by commercial promoters. Cambridge (or Came-bo as it is known to us) is not like a typical music festival. Sure there are lots of people, dodgy food vendors (I mean the food is dodgy, not the vendors, or though perhaps the two are inextricably connected) and the ubiquitous box of filth that somehow represents acceptable human standards for toileting. But at Cambo there is never too many people, the food is actually pretty good and the toilets, well I have seen far worse in my years. However, now imagine a festival where the queue lengths, if even present, are manageable and all the people are friendly (even security) and conduct themselves somewhere between relaxed and barely awake throughout the day.
Also, unlike many festivals, I think it is fair to say that the punters at Cambridge are musicians, very musical or know someone very well who is a musician. This manifests in a much higher level of respect and appreciation during each performance, as well as an open mind for previously unknown artists.
Musically there are more bouzouki, fiddle and squeeze box players gathered than I would have thought necessary in any modern, developed society. It seems that even today in an age when a vocal pitch synthesizer might be considered to be a legitimate instrument, thankfully some people like to sing and play old-school style, o-naturale (or “natural” for you non-French speakers), what you see really is what you get. Moreover there are clearly lots of people who are excited to see and hear such a performance. In fact, the crowds get quite enthused and cheer loudly at the simplest things, such as when the tempo steps up in a particularly complex piece played on a fiddle. Now there is not much I don’t know about the fiddle and Martin Hayes (of Martin Hayes/Dennis Cahill fame) is probably the best I have seen – worth a few minutes of company time on You Tube.
Erin and I camped again this year, as has become our tradition. Our group of friends (14 in total with ages ranging from mid twenties up to I-dare-not-guess-nor-repeat) I believe now have become the festival within the festival. We set up our camp, or HQ, in the same area as the previous year, but this time we occupied quite an expansive space. Especially as each couple, or single person, was housed in family size accommodation, with no more than 2 people per tent. Some might call it “glamping”, but I think that is relative to one’s personal minimum standards. I would expect much more if I was after a luxury campsite, eg: plumbing, electricity and servants. Lets just call it comfy outdoor living for the privileged few who insist on a tent you can stand up in.
Once inside the festival proper we placed our seats in the same place as last year, the 14 chairs forming a large circle. Where we sit commemorates, and has been named in memory of, a man who passed away a few years ago. It was where he sat every year and so it will be where we sit too. The fact is, it is a strategic position, perfectly placed between the two main stages, near enough to food, drink and toilets as well as the exit to our tents. Traditions need not be tiresome chores.
So we did arrive on Thursday morning, not returning home until Monday morning. In between we relaxed and enjoyed the sunshine (when it was on offer), saw plenty of great music, ate really well and I even managed to squeeze in a few games of squash.
Let me explain. The festival does not operate a fitness and leisure centre (though it is worth proposing). I had the inspired idea to squeeze in some fitness amongst the relentless relaxation. So I’d researched squash courts in Cambridge and found a place we could turn up to play some squash, and as a bonus use the showers (and clean toilets) on site. Doing this in the morning each day kick-started my day perfectly. Of course, not all of the 12 in our group were interested. On day 1 we had 4 players (including Erin), on the 2nd and 3rd days there was only 2. But 2 is enough for a game and I’m really glad we did it.
After the festival I took an extra couple of days off work, taking advantage of the down turn in stress to enjoy some relaxation at home. In all I had only a week off and it made a huge difference to my mindset. At last I felt chilled out and calm. I am sure if it had been any other festival I would have come home exhausted and stressed out completely. Such is the magical power of Cambridge.
