Jonathan Ryder Richardson takes his family to the Larmer Tree Festival in Wiltshire...
Jonathan Ryder Richardson takes his family to the Larmer Tree Festival in Wiltshire....
Like a lot of recession hit families and with a poor pound to euro exchange rate, last summer we decided to try out something closer to home - a weekend at a family festival. ‘Larmer Tree is great for kids' was the opinion of several seasoned family festival going friends, so with their encouragement we booked it....
On arrival at the Larmer Tree Gardens in Wiltshire, the race was on to grab enough real estate to pitch our sizeable tent and gazebo. On the basis that parking would be a long way from the pitch, we brought a trolley with us and proceeded to make several trips to ferry the mountain of miscellaneous baggage. It never ceases to amaze me that no matter how often we extol the virtues of travelling light, of cutting down on the clobber, of getting back to basics, when it comes to the crunch we have enough equipment to do justice to an Everest expedition!
Admittedly when we includes me, my wife Tracy, Tom, Toby, Joe, Luke, and Tilly, it is fair to assume there will be a reasonable amount of kit. The boys would have happily worn the same clothes for the whole weekend so perhaps we could have managed with a bit less. Still, the tent and gazebo went up quickly with help from some kids and hindrance from the smaller variety. My last job was to make sure both were well guyed down and facing away from the wind (more about that later). Finally it was time to go and explore the festival.
It had rained for days on end and when the sun came out it gave the thick mud soup that flowed around every tent, stand and stall an almost magical sparkle. Activities for the kids started with pitta bread making for breakfast, a big hit with the boys, then there was belt making with found objects, glowing jelly fish making using recycled plastic bags; they sound ghastly but it was actually great fun and quite effective when the glow sticks were ignited that evening. Drumming for forty or fifty adults and kids should have had us reaching for earplugs and paracetamol but strangely had quite the opposite effect with random kids striking up a rhythm and everyone joining in to create a sternum shaking, hand aching concert of percussion..... oh alright, it probably sounded hideous, but inside the tent hammering away on a goat skin covered pot was the most fun I'd had in ages....no, really.
An off-site graffiti lesson was next up for the older boys, I guess devised on the basis that whatever you do you should do it well, even if it is breaking the law. Joe meanwhile had found the circus skills area and we lost him to the diablo for the rest of the stay. The main lawn was miraculously dry, testament to the open weave matting that allowed the grass to grow through but stopped the mud. We listened to a number of bands, none of whom we had heard of. We never did listen to them again, despite buying a few CD's. What goes on tour stays on tour applies to the music as much as to any nefarious activities it seems.
Off to one side of the main lawn, there was an enchanted garden, the highlight of which was a kitchen baking fresh cakes and serving big mugs of tea. If that doesn't sound like a highlight, you must bear in mind it's day two, the wind hasn't stopped blowing a gale, the rain has only stopped for a few half hour breaks and we are trying to keep tabs on too many children in too many places. When we smelled the carrot cake I think we gave up, or did we just relax and become proper festival goers, content to lie back on blankets and cushions, munch yummy cakes, and let the children run barefoot and muddy wherever they pleased?
Back to the tent some time during day two and we were proud to note that our tent and gazebo were holding up to the elements, unlike several neighbours, some of whose tents were only prevented from blowing away by the weight of bags inside, or was that a body pressed against the nylon? I rescued a couple of tents feeling like a boy scout with my handy mallet and knowledge of knots, and set out again for the afternoon's delights which included the Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain (a must-see) and devil or doppelganger, a funny stall tucked away in the woods where you collected a lump of clay sculpted it into a self portrait and left it on a tarpaulin with hordes of others. Anthony Gormley eat yer heart out. Did I mention that we are now all in fancy dress...no? Well I suppose this partly explains the amount of luggage. The theme for Dress-Up Saturday was movies, a suitably loose theme allowing those of us who cared to join in to be Aladdin, a werewolf, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and in my case a Slum Dog Millionaire extra (traditional Indian outfit complete with five metres of turban cloth, in cream of course, so as to show up in the mud).
Back to camp again and we were disheartened to see our faithful gazebo had given up the battle against the elements and one side had completely collapsed, taking out the kitchen (did I not mention the kitchen?) and picnic table. Do we now join the shamefaced ranks of the amateurs whose tents, awnings and gazebos have gone west? No! Out come the multi-tool, bonus nuts and bolts, surplus skewers for tent pegs and more guy ropes. We lash everything back in place and sit down to one of the delicious meals we brought with us.
There were many other activities and great food to sample, bands to listen to and people to watch. All in all it was a positive experience and if we ever pluck up the courage to do it again, just about the only thing we would change would be to choose a festival with a more recognisable line-up...and leave the kids at home... and stay in a Winnebago....with it's own toilet, don't get me started on the toilets, or the cost of toilet roll, oh and it wouldn't rain. But apart from that....‘Daddy, when are we going to see the llamas?'
Article written for summer 2010 issue
