Sunday, 14 September 2014

And Just As Everything Looks to be Going Well, Something Comes and Kicks It In The Nads

I would actually have liked to end that title with "as fucking usual". But it wouldn't fit.

So, we've been in the new house since the end of May and all is well with it. We have halved our bills (having a boiler that isn't as old as me clearly helps), we have settled in nicely and we even found a very nice local pub just one street away.

Mini started school. Littlest didn't. However, considering, we thought, that we put in his appeal on July 8th, it must be coming soon to sort it all out.

Kick in the nads alert.

The law states that, all appeals must be done and dusted, from the parent's handing the forms in to request one, to the hearing, and the decision, within 30 school days. Which, by our 8th July, should mean it all being sorted by 25th September.

Yes, that was a bit pesky but it's those blasted school days they state. The whole, entire August did not count down to the holidays. But, that was fine. It would be sorted out sharpish after that.

The thing is, I don't really get the school days and how the holidays has such an impact. Its not the school that deals with the appeal. Its the council, or in our case, Diocese, as the school we feel is best for Littlest, and where Mini already goes, is Voluntary Aided. So, its not for the council to step in.

But the diocese is part of the church, right? And, I may not be a church goer save for weddings and christenings, but I'm pretty sure they don't also naff off during the summer holidays.

Except, the school admins decided, for reasons only known to themselves, to not send anything, at all. Not our appeal request, not our supporting evidence, nothing.

When they sent an acknowledgement on receipt, it took them 2 weeks. At which point, I gave them a polite call and asked when we would get an appeal date. I was told, by someone who really sounded like they didn't like being questioned about matters of a secretarial nature, (standard school/GP secretary behavior in my experience), that the date would be forwarded in the future as "its the school holidays in a week". Yes, but I asked, has the paperwork we gave in several weeks back been forwarded to the relevant people. You know, so as to not hold it up after their summer jollies?  I was told it had. So that was fine then.

On the first week back, I popped in and spoke to the same lady in person who looked really like she wanted me to piss off for asking about the appeal. I was told she'd phone later.

Not wanting to piss her off further, though not quite understanding how a polite and simple question could have pissed her off in the first place, I went home, and sat by the phone.

No phone call came.

Now, I don't like being fobbed off. Especially when I have a 6 year old, wanting to go to school, upset because his sister has gone off in her uniform. I felt, school days or no school days, we had waited long enough.

So, me being me, and not being that bothered about pissing anyone off (you might have noticed that readers?) I went in again.

To be told she had sent the paperwork that afternoon and was waiting to hear back.

Hold the freaking phone, people.

Those following will notice the deliberate cock up there. The paperwork, which I was told in July had already been sent, had now, suddenly not been sent until the 3rd September.

I was told I should hear by Friday.

Except, I still didn't.

So I went in again. I spoke to someone else this time. I would have preferred to phone, except despite there being 3 secretaries in that office, no one seems ever to answer a phone.

Lo and behold, I was told- you guessed it, she was sending the statements that day, so I should hear soon.

Again, hold the freaking phone.

So, this paperwork has now been sent on or around  the 8th July, the 3rd September and now the 5th September. That is one busy set of paperwork. No wonder they can't answer a phone eh?

This Secretary, not a dragon like the other one, even told me about the 30 day rule and agreed it was all taking far too long.

We finally got a date yesterday for the appeal hearing.

Is it prompt?

Is it bollocks.

Its for the 8th October, in Oxford (2 hours away by train).


That, that, is against the fucking law of appeals.

You can't bring the kids, so how they expect me to not just get all the way to Oxford, for 3 hours, at 2.30pm with one child with no school at all, and one child who will need picking up from the school at 3.20, I have no idea. Perhaps I should lock them in the shed for the afternoon?

The report from the Governors is laughable.

They still expect us to stump up what would be £300 a week to travel to school by taxi and train 5 days a week twice a day, to Maidenhead. And how I'm meant to also get Mini to school is anyone's guess. They make no mention of Littlest's illness, which I find bloody rude considering the amount of Consultant letters I sent with the appeal.

All they care about is that there wont be room for him down to the uptake of free school meals. How very dare we ask for one extra child to sit and have an education- I'll bring him home for lunch if it offends them that much.

We have no end in sight to this, no school for Littlest at all. What the hell are we meant to do? I have no doubt this appeal is a total waste of time on our part, they simply aren't interested. They go on about catchment, but we live 0.2 miles from the school, and there is only one school in the entire part of Earley we  live in that falls under the catchment. And there's no space there either. The ridiculous thing is they mention this 0.2 miles in their evidence as if that's a long way- the last house in their catchment at the furthest point from the school is 7.3 miles!

They also say they have too many in classes already, but the national accepted top amount for schools is 30. Not one of the three classes at the school in Year 2 has more than 25.

Reader, I leave you baffled, pissed off, and on the point of kicking off royally. I asked for advice on the previously very friendly school Facebook network and got properly told off for daring to even mention the school in a negative light (I didn't. I just said it was upsetting him not to be going anywhere at all).

As usual, there is always a fly in the ointment. I'm starting to think I'm fucking cursed.

Saturday, 6 September 2014

#PRRequest, @BuyItYourself and Round 257 in PRs Shooting Themselves in the Foot with Bloggers

Its that time of the year again when a PR thinks they are oh so smart and writes an insightful post to their company blog about how awful bloggers are who review and how we always misuse the #PRRequest Hashtag.

So far, so standard.

However, and although it can't be proved but probably will come out as these things tend to  suddenly a twitter feed (mentioned in aforementioned blog post, funny that) has popped up asking PRs and other (wankier) bloggers to send in tweets and names of bloggers who they then affectively "name and shame" on this feed. It also, curiously, does lots to promote the post about how evil bloggers are who review. That makes up most of its feed actually. As I say, curiously so.

See, this could have worked OK. I'm no great fan of the blatant misuse of the #PRRequest hashtag myself. When it was first used it was a great way for emerging bloggers  to set out that we were here and if you want to get in touch, then do so. It was a waving flag of "PR Friendly" to the brands hungry to snap us and our expertise (and cheap advertising) up.

However, to me, this is cyber bullying hidden behind a right on satire and statement on us much maligned bloggers.

What really grates with me is that they happily name and shame the blogger (or blagger apparently) involved, yet they don't have the balls at their disposal to use their actual name. Hence, to me, this is the PR firms way of slagging us off without shooting itself in the foot and losing our precious free advertising.

Its worth noting that the post's author is actually someone who has approached me (along with other colleagues) to write for them and to review Easter products with The Brats. Its also widely seen as double standards that the Boss of this PR firm is constantly seen using the hashtag to plead for Bloggers to write for free.

If they are so keen to make the world of blogging a better place, why hide behind an alias? You all know what I feel about anonymous people slagging others off.

Its already upset one lovely blogger and that one is quite enough.

What annoys me the most is on the day this all kicks off, and gives bullying bloggers and others the chance to throw cyber barbs on this site without being exposed for it (and thus letting the wimpish trolls that they are who are too weak to actually do it directly have the perfect outlet), we have several bloggers being driven slowly mental by an SEO who has sent bundles of emails over and over, driving bloggers potty over the last week.

Have these bloggers set up an anonymous Twitter feed and named and shamed this SEO? No.

When we get treated as little more than free advertising, do we go to twitter and anonymously slate them? No.

I for one hope this dies on its yawnsome arse soon. And if it is the same PR firm responsible, then there are frankly better ways to promote yourself than biting the hand that graciously drops the washing, the ironing, the cooking and everything else to write you a post.

And apologies all round we hope.

Friday, 5 September 2014

Is It Just Me: Who Thinks the Brit Bunch of Jihadi Fighters Should Be Refused Entry to the Country?

You remember, dear readers,  those poor little mites who felt this country which has, and let's not forget, offered them homes, security, education and jobs (what wicked, terrible folk we are here) was not worth bothering with and who, stupidly thought running over to incite racial hatred abroad was OK?

Well, apparently they have, en masse, thought it was a very silly mistake to do this. And now, humorously enough, they want to be let back in to this formerly terrible, wicked country to resume their cushy lives, no questions asked.

They are no doubt crying into their rifles to go back to a life of cars, westernised clothes and Mcdonalds. 

So, the question we now have to scratch our chins over is- shall we let them back?

There are two ways of looking at this.

No one made them go over there. No one forced them, guns in backs, and made them go over to the dark side and, as I previously mentioned, to a country that probably they have never been to and has not seen their family in for several generations. Unlike those who they have no doubt stuck a gun in the back of in Iraq and made convert to a religion they don't believe in. 

They are criminals. Pure and simple. Whether they never actually shot anyone, they endorsed it. They join in. So, sorry they are guilty by association- as are any of those who have sent money to the cause and continued to live in the rest of the world.

Do we really want to invite- UK national or not- a bunch of criminals into this country? 

Well, no, no we don't actually.

Also, they have broken a trust, a trust which suggests that you behave in a civilised fashion. I'm not suggesting for one moment that anyone, from any religion, doesn't have the right to a say in how the country is. But baring arms and setting off to join terrorist organisations is a whole new ball game. A game changer if you will.

We only have limited intelligence into these terror cells. We can only speculate on what they've been told to do when they do, eventually, come home.

How do we know that for every 3 who genuinely are pissing their pants and crying for their Mummies, there are 4 who have been told to act like they've had a change of heart, get back in, and then start the same type of crap here?

We just don't know, and in light of the horrific scenes of 7/11, 9/11 and Lee Rigby's cruel, and public murder, its a risk I feel is just not worth taking.

Yes, there will be those who argue that they are young, foolish, they have been brainwashed and were born here, so they have to return.

Then in that case, they should be stripped of their passports, and those who do go around Brainwashing impressionable idiots people need to be dealt with accordingly.

It just feels like this country needs to stop being the rest of the worlds doormat frankly. We put up with so much crap that we shoudln't have to put up with. Our government is letting us down.

There are good and bad in all races and religions, don't get me wrong, but when it comes to the point where an 82 year old Gran is beheaded in her garden and the Police have to straight away reassure us its a nutter and not a terrorist (although there's a seriously thin line between the two if you ask me), then the whole laws on how we deal with behaviour like this needs updating.

I am sick of living in a culture of fear, and I doubt I'm the only one.

So, its time to lobby our Politicians to stop pussy footing around and get some balls. No, we don't want you back, simple. 

If nothing else it will deter other idiots from going and joining them.

Wednesday, 3 September 2014

That Naked Photo Scandal....NSFW

I am going to begin by saying that I may use words to describe lady areas which some may find offensive. In fact, I am almost only writing this post to see how many names I can use for lady parts. Slightly.

That naked lady photo shocker.

Was it really that big of a shock these days?

Don't get me wrong, I'm all about a woman's right to parade her muff onto photographic equipment if she so chooses.  I am all up on the Sisterhood, so to speak.

However, its a camera phone.

It connects to the world wide web. Which is not the safest way of protecting images of your lady garden is it?

You can't even upload innocuous pictures of a day out on a blog without some bugger nicking them.

The very idea of letting happy snaps of my sacred clam wing their way hither and dither onto the insecure web fills me with abject horror, and I'm not a celebrity.

Whilst it is of course horrifying for most of the names on the list who were hacked (I mean some like a certain Kardashian probably have their Momager on it to rake in cash from the sale of said snaps), what on earth were they thinking?

Surely, if you must take pics of your tits  for your own, or someone else's, amusement, the humble old Polaroid, though old school and basic, is bang on for the money (shot)?

As for giving out photos to your latest paramour, surely a very dangerous exercise for a budding or indeed already famous lady?

Vanessa Hudgens has already been hit, along with various others (when the Spice Girls first launched earworms on the radio way back in 96, you couldn't open a paper for weeks without an ex of Geri's and his artfully shot pics of her sans clothing) before and after her. So why on earth do none of these girls learn to keep private parts, well, private?

What with the new buzz in the media being all about Porn Shaming exes, famous or otherwise, its not exactly a new phenomenon for some smarmy ex to grab those previously "for your eyes only" photos and make them public. And I should know, as when I was 17, I was daft enough to lay with a bra and jeans on for my at the time fiancee. Except as soon as we broke up acrimoniously months later,  and with me forgetting all about the- albeit not very racy pictures- he decided the best way to hit me was to upload them online.

At the time I was shocked, but it wasn't long before I found the whole thing funny- some of the images on the site were utterly terrible, I was a sprightly size 8 teen and thankfully had nothing more on show than my (much missed nowadays) flat tummy. I didn't even have boobs then. It was so tame. I would be very surprised if anyone got their rocks off to me.

Now, with camera phones, there is not a chance, even if I was still in possession of my size 8, no boobs, flat tummy that I would let anyone, including Elder, take those kind of images of me.

Like one of those dodgy name of loved one tattoos that come to be a mistake when you break up, to selling off your cds when you move in to together and combining collections, anything that can be a pain in your arse ( literally) on breaking up, even if you feel its the one, the love of your life, its a bad idea.

So, next time you think about getting a camera out and posing as nature intended, put on some clothes, put down the phone, and leave the cloud to dog shaming pics of the canine variety.

And don't end up a statistic of the modern world.

Saturday, 30 August 2014

Bloggers: When Its Time to Disregard the Negative and Concentrate on the Positive

I've been around in blogging circles, both parent and otherwise, on and off (briefly off mind) since 2006 (I know right? Before Twitter and everything).

So, I've kind of seen a lot in that time, drama, spats, unhappiness, passive aggressive fuckery, the whole nine yards.

I've joined in with my fair bit of what I like to term "bitch blogger baiting" and I've had differing levels of success. Sometimes I have felt justified (and still do, cough, holiday camp, cough), other times, I have woken up the next day, and thought "well that was a bit daft" and done a mouthing off walk of shame back on to Twitter to apologise.

But you carry on.

In blogging, as in life, you cannot possibly please all the people all the time. Whereas you may have 100,000 followers and hits per month, there will always be a few nay sayers who hate you, your blog, your cat and anything else you hold dear.

Its how we deal with these moaning minis and trolls that counts. Trust me, I have had enough of these to know what I'm talking about. I've been called, thick, unintelligent, a shit blogger, a blagger, mentally unstable, ugly, fat and my own personal fave, a chav. I laughed.

I don't really believe in don't feed the troll, cos to me, in my position, I love them, they are bloody great for stats after all! No I'm kidding. Really.
What I feel more like is that, if this troll is so intent on making you miserable, that actually, rather than slipping away from my blog and my twitter and retreating to a safe distance (or Facebook) the best course of action is to ramp up your blogging. Go out of your way to be all over social media like a persistent rash.

I know far too many bloggers who are lovely ladies (and gents) but each and every week one of them is attacked in some way. Sometimes its a comment, other times a tweet.

However, I think that to write a nasty comment without writing your name smacks of a lack of bravery and acute awareness that they are, in fact, a fuckwit. And that's how we should all see these people. Fuckwits, causing fuckwittage, to be fucking fuckwits and to make people as fuckwitty as they are.

I also feel that, actually, these said fuckwits should be patted on the head, told "there there" and laughed at. Not gotten worked up over. I would even go as far as to say that, should you have a fuckwit at your virtual door, you have truly made it in terms of blogging, its like being in a boyband and having a crazy stalker, but in a virtual sense.

Clearly, such is what you are doing, and doing well, that these much maligned , and clearly delusional, people are that jealous as to try and knock you enough to even out the playing field. Rather than, say, improving their own space online, writing good content, and engaging in a positive sense, they would much rather act in a childish way. They aren't here to make friends, and even if they are, they are so scared of being found out for what they really are behind the cloak of anonymous that they do just that- write anonymous. Or Guest. Or something similar.

Don't get me wrong, we all have bad days when we hate the world and we find ourselves jumping feet first and end up insulting people. Its those who do it all the time and think they are clever about it (when actually, one such troll is so well known in a certain blogging community (cough parent bloggers, cough) that it makes a mockery of her use of "anon") that are the problem.

So, keep doing what you do, write for you and those who like what you write, disregard those who don't and keep on keeping on.

And let those trolls up your stats whenever they like.

Thursday, 28 August 2014

Is It Just Me: Or Has There Been a Serious Shift in Power Between Kids and Their Teachers?

Did anyone watch BBC One last night? 

No, I'm not talking about Bake Off and the Baked Alaska scandal that swept Twitter last night with fury only Britain can manage over a baked good.

I'm talking about the show which followed it (when no doubt half the UK was bemoaning said Baked Alaska Sabotage).

It was a Panorama documentary called "Last Chance Academy"  which  centred on a school in a deprived area of Birmingham.

The kids of the small Pupil Referral style unit were, as the title suggests, on their last chance to get an education of any kind. I believe what the school and programme makers hoped to do was to make us all feel sorry for these kids and to anoint the staff with sainthoods.

Well, I watched it but I didn't feel sorry for the majority of them at all. I felt that this £6,000 per pupil was, in the most part, a gigantic waste of money.

I also felt sorry, in actual fact, for the kids in the school- the majority who turned up, in their uniform, on time, with their homework.  You know, like you were meant to and like I should imagine the majority of you reading did in those days when you were at school.

I felt the Head of the "Leap" as it was called was being walked all over and came across as a bit of dick head. I can see most of the kids- as it was filmed- showing no respect at all for this so called maverick.

From pupils turning up when they could be bothered, to telling this Head that they wouldn't sit through 3 classes, they would only do two, while he rolled over to them, I was left completely shocked that the local authority let it be shown.

The thing is I may be slightly biased but I went to a school in a deprived area where we were not seen as having much hope beyond 16. I worked my arse off through little reprobates like those shown in the programme to get my grades. I did it with respect for my elders whether they were right or wrong.

See, when I was at school, that's how it went- you sat up straight, you said yes sir or no mam, you had respect and you did as you were told. The Teachers and the Heads ran things, not us. And no matter how many little buggers tried it on, they never got far further than detention. However, there was a newer breed of teacher who felt they needed to nurture these kids who couldn't be bothered to behave, meaning people like me faded into the background and were left to fend for ourselves. Hence, when I found it cripplingly hard to comprehend even basic maths, because I behaved and turned up on time without a bad attitude, no extra help or consideration was given.

Most of these kids talked over- if not shouted over- their teachers, You would not have dared in my day. Yet these teachers kept bending over backwards regardless.

Even though they supposedly had this extra help, all that money being spent, it was not until the end of her school life that it came out one child had a below par reading age. How the hell did they miss that? What are they being paid for?

I'm sorry, but it's time for Teachers (not all, as I know some great teachers who do a great job) to take back the power from these kids who show no respect yet get all the help and guidance in the world.

Or else I wouldn't like to be them when they find themselves in work having to bow down to a boss.

Wednesday, 27 August 2014

Is It Just Me: Questioning When Our Sense of What Constitutes Racism is More Important to Protect Than Children?

If I say the word Rotherham to you, unless you have yet to catch the headlines last night or this morning, than you will be, no doubt, disgusted by what has come to light.

It was revealed yesterday that children as young as 11, in fact 1,400 of them (or that's what we know of), have been used a currency by a gang of Asian males. They were raped repeatedly, and passed between friends in different towns between 1997 and 2013.

That in itself in the modern world we live in is disgraceful.

But the story takes an even more "are you fucking kidding me" angle when we find out that Social Workers- those whom are responsible for the welfare of those unable to care for it themselves, knew about the attacks. Did they intervene?

Well, you'd think owing to their job description they would have done without question. But they didn't. They did nothing. Not one thing. Hence the length of time and severity of the attacks on these 1,400 children (again, we know of these, but I would not be at all surprised that there are more who are still too scared to come forward).

According to reports, the main leader of this pack of, and I'm not sorry if this offends, and would invite you to get the hell off my blog and never return if it does or you sympathise with these men in anyway, utter animals walked around like he was King of the World. He was well aware that the Social Services knew, and well aware they stood by and let it happen. He goaded them frequently according to reports. He knew they knew and did nothing, so he simply carried on, safe in the knowledge that he could do what he wanted and not face what rightfully should have happened (and has, thankfully, now happened) and be jailed.

So, why did this carry on for so long? Why were so many of these poor kids allowed to have their lives ruined forever for the sick sexual desires of these freaks? (again, not sorry for offence, they're freaks).

Its that word again, the one we hear over and over increasingly when the Powers That Be who are meant to protect the rest of us fail.


They were scared about being accused of racism. More scared of that than of what was happening to these children.

One could ask how they could sleep at night, knowing that this was going on, under their noses.

Do they have kids themselves?

To top it all off, and to further reinstall that racism is more important that children's welfare in this country these days, how many have been sacked, resigned or given their wages back?


Out of a whole department of people, paid to do a job, one person, the head, has resigned.

You can see this being a Sharon Shoesmith all over again.

And what are our mates the Tories doing? Are they sacking people?

Are they feck.

If it's not an excuse to kick a disabled person or similar, they don't care.

Its the usual round of solemn looks to camera and "lessons will be learnt" yet again.

Yet these lessons are not learnt.

I'm not a racist person. Far from it. But I really hate that these so called do gooders are ruining the country by marking everything as racist at the drop of a hat, meaning people are too scared to speak up and people like these sick individuals can walk around, knowing that, should they have their collars felt they can cry racism and it all goes away.

No doubt the same will be true when the deluded UK ISIS fighters decide they've quite had enough of beheading people are raping and pillaging a land they've probably not had family members in for decades and want their cushy UK lives back.

Frankly, they should have their passports revoked but it wont happen.

This time, we do actually need a public referendum on what constitutes racism. What levels it takes and when this is nothing compared to what children like those in Rotherham (and no doubt other boroughs we're yet to hear about), some of whom had petrol thrown over them when they told their attackers they would speak up, have had to go through and the future they face trying to live a normal life.

And you can't help thinking, had these children have been mates of David Cameron's party members, this would have all been dealt with a lot quicker.

I leave you, disgusted that this story has happened in the UK, a supposedly civilised country. And hoping that, these poor mites may be left alone and never failed again.

Saturday, 2 August 2014

Camp Bestival Diary Part 3: Saturday Evening

You join me back in the field by the crochet trimmed Castle Stage!

Sophie Ellis Bextor, someone who I have never really thought good or bad on in the sense that I wouldn't buy an album but am not offended if she comes on the radio, stormed the sunlit stage.

I would love to ask her how she still looks about 19 at this point, she looked fab compared to us by now weary festival dwellers. And dear Robbie is wrong, she definitely does not have legs like his Gran, unless she was blessed with an enviable pair able to dance for some time in sparkly heels. I was pleasantly surprised by her act, I loved the disco styled melody she did at the end of her set, throwing in Moloko was a good call. Everyone in the crowd danced like loons including Littlest. I am now left wondering both where she got her vintage first stage costume from and how I can look good enough after children to wear a spangly leotard with ease.

Next it was time for tea and back to the camp where dinner was served in the tent whilst the Brats joined their new found Yellow Camp mates from next door.

It was still hot most of the afternoon and well into the evening, but knowing how open the field is we wrapped the Brats in onesies and brought their blankets ready for the evenings entertainment. We briefly stopped around the field to admire the scene of a wedding party going into the blow up church and so Littlest could wave at more Policemen, then took our spots in the middle of the crowd for Laura Mvula.

Now, I like Laura, I find she's a bit like Amy Winehouse in that soulful mixture of old and new she conjures into your ears with her velvet voice. I've seen a few people suggest she was a bit dull for later in the field and they'd prefer something to dance to. But, after an afternoon full of high energy, it was quite nice to sit back and relax whilst she whispered in our collective ears.

A consummate professional not at all bothered by technical niggles, Laura was a cool breeze on a hot day, and I am now in a rush to download as much material as I can find.

By now, the Brats were yawning and, up until earlier today it would have meant rock, paper, scissors between Elder and I over who got to see Headline act De La Soul. But, no, they now have ear defenders-yippee! So with blankets on the floor, warm and cosy as they were, they nodded off.

At this point, things got a bit tense as those technical buggers had reared their goblin like heads again, and the start time moved further and further away.

Too Many Ts, acting once again as Compères did a marvellous job of trying to keep an increasingly concerned crowd happy with jokes and songs, and I would not have liked to have been them.

Finally, at just before 10.45 instead of 10.15, the mighty and frankly unbeatable De La Soul stormed onto the stage and the crowd went bloody wild with joy (including myself).

I utterly love their brand of hip hop, I have the vinyl original of Three Feet High and Rising twice as I love it so. I also didn't mind Little Mix in Hyde Park so much due to their (not quite as good unless you are Mini) version of Ring Ring Ring.

They smashed it, I liked their newer stuff but did jump far more over such classics as Saturday, Ring Ring Ring and Me Myself and I.

However, the set was meant to last an hour and sadly, it came to an abrupt halt at 11.15.  I'm not going to moan too much, but it was disappointing for me and many others in the crowd, and many thought they were possibly taking a break before coming back, but it was not to be.

Amidst chants of "Say No Go" using their much loved classic song, we made our way back to the tent.

It can't be helped that tech issues arise in a field full of people, but I would have thought letting them stay on for their full hour wouldn't have been an issue when other fields carried on into the small hours (in fact, we were at the bottom of the hill in Yellow Camp but could hear everything going on at the big top and in the Soul Park quite clearly).

That's not to say we didn't enjoy what we did see, it was everything we had looked forward to and more, but it did make it a little more annoying that it was cut short.

So, we woke the Brats up and took them tent wards still half asleep, discussing how next year we will definitely buy a trolley and transport them!

Camp Bestival Dairy Part 2: Saturday Day Time

Hello from a now very sunny and hot Lulworth and Camp Bestival where we're lucky enough to be having a ball.

Saturday started off with scary levels of rain and cold, at points from 5.30am I was convinced the tent would blow away. We're in yellow camp at the bottom of a steep hill, so we definitely pitched in the wrong place.

Happily by 10am it was starting to clear and after a jaunt for a breakfast must haves in nearby Wareham, it was back to wander round the camp.

We took in the Upper Kids field, the beautiful cathedral and then off we went to the Roald Dahl museum.

The Brats love Roald Dahl so enjhoyed the exhibit, albeit a small one, and loved dressing up as Oompa Loompas and Willy Wonka.

We then popped by to see an old fave of ours in the shape of multi talented  Rory McLeod, who treated a large crowd of devotees in the Big Top to a brilliant performance of his brand of personally penned folk songs. There is not a single instruments he can't play, including the spoons. The song Mum certainly brought a tear to the eye. We were lucky enough to meet him afterwards amongst a big crowd of fans, and finally Elder got to ask for a signed CD for a close friend.

Next up was the group Too Many Ts, who were good at getting the crowd ready for the next big act, Sophie Ellis-Bextor. They put me in mind of Rizzle Kicks actually, and I'm pleased I got see them for the first time.

Sophie is on now, and look out for the next part of the diary, which will include Sophie, Laura Mvula and De La Soul (so excited!).

Friday, 1 August 2014

Camp Bestival Diary: Friday

Camp Bestival- yippee!

We arrived around 5pm yesterday and set up base camp in the Yellow Zone, straight away Mini and Littlest had made firm friends of our next door neighbours and after a dinner an early(ish) night was declared.
How many Family Panel Men does it take to put up a wonky Wind Breaker?

Of course, the Brats were raring to go by 7pm, and so we took a brief detour for supplies (including waterproofs for us adults who had managed to forget ours- doh!).

We took our lucky pit seats for Horrible Histories which Mini has helpfully given her view on below:

We were then treated to an amazing performance by Courtney Pine. All I can say is, wow. If you haven't caught him live (as Elder did 20 years ago) or heard him perform online, what are you waiting for, you need this guy's music in your life. If you can find it look for his version of Happy. Best. Version. Ever.

We had wanted to all see James, but I had designated this Elder's definite one to watch alone if the kids moaned about how late it was, and true to form they did. So off we went back to the tent, stopping off to look at all the lights of the camp at
night time.

Elder did report back though, and good news for James fans is that there is a new album coming, and it's set to be a good one. They of course pleased the crowds with some old favorites, although down the maximum capacity no one could do the sit down bit of Sit Down, due to a lack of room (or old age? Perhaps!).

We are now looking forward to day 2, which promises Rain but also Laura Mvula, Rory Mcleod and De La Soul.