rambleaway

It was quite nostalgic standing in Knebworth Park yesterday morning. It was a bright sunny day and I could see the lovely, tiny St Mary's Church in the background.  I once went to a wedding there.  Nothing looked very different really. We were there to pick up our son who had been to a festival.  As it was what I would call a Heavy Metal Festival, it was a difficult job trying to spy him and his mates amongst the relentless sea of black T-shirts as the hordes of unwashed left the park.

I wondered how many of them still felt it was as good an idea as it seemed the night before to buy five foot totem poles with various ogre's heads on them, or plastic leatherette helmets with horns on? At least they won't have to buy them next year.

I looked back over the years since I worked at the park including the day I got paid for wandering around pretending to do something like "security" on July 20th 1974. I basically got paid a fiver ( a fair day's pay for a fair day out) to watch The Allman Brothers, The Doobie Brothers, Van Morrison, John McLaughlin's Mahavishnu Orchestra, Alex Harvey and, right at the bottom of the bill, Tim Buckley.  Everyone else there had paid £2.75 for an advanced ticket or £3 on the gate.  I know all this because whilst I'm writing this I am looking at the poster for the said event on my wall. Here it is:

Anyhow, it all happened last Century and I was still only a teenager. A lot of water has flowed, etc . . . and any other cliche you want to add.  Happy, carefree times though, I must admit. I hope my son and his friends enjoyed the weekend as much as I enjoyed festivals.  Obviously nowadays I tend to go to Cropredy.  Unfortunately we're not this year (I don't think much of the line-up and RT isn't on).

Ah well.  We had agreed to pick our son up but we were expecting to be later than we actually arrived as the plan was to pick them up in Harvey on the way back from the Midlands.  Then I was expecting to get up early this morning to take second born to Luton airport.

However, a frantic phone call on Sunday night brought us back early as she had discovered that the flight was MONDAY morning not Tuesday! So Mrs Dave had to drive Harvey down on Sunday night as I had spent the afternoon sitting in my sister-in-law's garden enjoying a glass or two of local ale (actually, it was Banks's bitter and the phrase "tolerate" might be closer to the truth).  It was a baptism of fire as she hadn't driven it on a road before.  She's used to it now!  All is well.  Second born safely in Croatia.

Actually, Harvey has to go to the garage to have its electrics looked at.  My brother-in-law stuck a multi-meter in the lighter to see if it worked.  He thought nothing of the sparks.  It would appear that it might have blown a fuse or two as we can't get the radio to work.  Or the cab lights.  Or, indeed, the lighter - not that we smoke but nowadays the lighter is used for other things.  Like solar panels to trickle-charge the battery.  Anyway - it needs looking at because I just look at these things and I have no idea whatsoever about how they work.  Like knitting.  How can you put some wool between two sticks, jiggle them about and come up with a jumper?  That's not a skill, that's witchcraft.

Anyhow, I digress.  It's a lovely day.  I don't know why I'm sitting here writing when I could be outside in the sunshine.  I've added a picture of the view as I sit and write. I've managed to avoid getting the washing on the line in the photo.  It all looks nice and verdant.  I suppose I should do as I've been told and go and get some Ant killer and toilet rolls.

It's that time of year when we get a little problem.  Ants, that is, the toilet rolls are because we've run out.

Rambleaway is a character in a traditional song.  It just seems apt because I'm, well, rambling away I guess.

They rambled the country from village to town
This Nancy she followed her true love around
He swore by the stars that he'd prove faithful and true,
In the very next town, well he bid her adieu.