Revenge of the Wellies

Karma Policeman arrested a man for selling magic mushrooms…

Anyhow. The Beautiful Days Festival was simply gorgeous. I only saw two police ‘persons’ the whole time. I ate crepes covered in brandy for breakfast and drank endless cups of steaming tea. The English grass was squashy under my feet, delightful accents flew across fields. Hippies ran around wearing wings, heads full of the fattest dreads you’ve ever seen. Where do these dreadlocked people go for the rest of the year?

Old men, young girls, kiddies and everyone in between sauntered around in wellies covered in rainbows, bubbles, stripes,
frogs and flowers. Everything is a mass of colours. Ska bands, acoustic sets, bongos, folk songs, music floats up and around from everywhere.

We shopped in tiny tents crammed full of hemp clothing, toys, costumes and pot noodles. Everything was there. We would have never needed to leave. We sat around a giant campfire with mellow folkies drinking tea and beer and just being, watching flaming lanterns fly across the sky and giant robots stroll around the fields. No, I was not stoned.

On the way down the hill we stopped to chat with a lovely middle aged hippie couple from somewhere close to Stonehenge who offered us a place to bunk should we be heading over that way. Such lovely genuine people, like so many  in our tent village.

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