Farmyard
For those who laughed at the weather forecasts and came to Yorkshire, the weekend was another humdinger
They were tense minutes as we laboured up Sutton Bank in the artic loaded with 14 pallets of canned beer.
“If we can’t make the hairpin and the wheels start spinning we are stuffed.” explained Jol. I sat quietly listening to the groans of the engine as our speed fell to sub walking pace.
Have you heard the one about the monk who was told to shun all physical pleasures so he went to The Farmyard to pick up his raw veg?
Sliding backwards down Sutton Bank into certain death among 23, 000 exploding beer cans, struck me as an ignoble fate. Just think what people would say. “It was the drink that got him in the end.” It had been a tough enough day hand balling 900 cases of beer
individually onto pallets, but I feel it is important for the President to roll up his sleeves and set an example.* Well we made it and many of you helped us get rid of the stock that was sold off at prices set to compete with the supermarkets.
There are no rules at The Farmyard about bringing your own booze. The organisers know times are lean but to keep the ticket prices as low as they are we really are dependent on the supplementary income streams.
Blessedly Friday was a fair day and the whole weekend was a lot better on the weather front than last year.
Given the last few years of rain the organisers have laid on more and more ground under canvas and an impressive 72,000 square feet was
42 The ROAD Pictures: Ian Mutch, Lucy Carolan and Captain Smurf
protected from the elements. Divide that by the crowd and it means that everyone had 14 square feet to themselves which I can tell you is a hell of a lot more than you get on a tube train in the London rush hour. There is too much for any one person to see at The Farmyard with three music venues covering rock, blues and dance, plus the comedy show that I managed to catch the opening act of this year.
I always like to take a
stroll into Helmsley as well for a cappuccino and cake in Porters Coffee House. It’s always amusing clocking the expressions of visitors as this quaint Yorkshire town fills up with bikers who occupy the square which is helpfully reserved for motorcycle parking only, on the weekend.
Another case of blatant pro biker discrimination was the ‘bikers only’ notice barring the general public from the newly established bird of prey centre. This falls into the ‘now for something completely different’ category and is well worth a visit.
If you’ve ever thought you’d been high as a kite or dreamed you could fly, give this show a visit and see the experts at it. It is quite reassuring to learn that they don’t always get it right however and have to learn their skills from others.
Given the variety of traders on site you could live there almost
In order to minimise haemorrhaging of profits to supermarkets MAG bought in an artic full of beer by the slab
indefinitely though Baron Feversham may have something to say about it. Jake, as we know him and his beautiful Italian wife Raffi always come up for a drink with the troops at the end of the weekend that is one of the best patronised of all public events hosted on the estate.
The Farmyard has been evolving continuously since it began over a quarter of a century ago. The organisers take notice of feedback and continually refine the whole operation which is why it runs as smoothly as it does.
Music review from ‘Sing-along Freddie’ There are a lot of good covers bands doing the rounds out there but I don’t see that many who have that extra little something. I think they call it “entertainment value”.
A band that does though is The Kix, a three piece all-girl outfit from South Wales. They have it in spades. They not only look the part but also
make a glorious sound. It’s nothing too elitist, just old school, feel-good rock music. And they also know how to finish off with one of the best Queen medleys I’ve heard for a long while. I meandered home to my tent afterwards hoarse from singing and with my ears ringing – always a sign of a good night.
Saturday Morning - coming down
So I get up at the crack of noon and drag my sorry self back over to see the comedians.
I’m a bit early so that I can get a decent seat near the front but not too close to the hairy guy in the mankini. I reckoned I might get caught in the flak he was going to be getting from the humour merchants. There’s a band on, which I suppose will while away the dead time before the show, but I don’t expect too much. They’re billed as the ‘Special Guest Band’ which is either a really crap name or they’re a
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