loose change to buy a herd of sheep. It was perhaps just as I was thinking this that some loose sheep charged past the stall. They ended up by the gate, but happened to be there when no security were on watch. Eventually a steward came and shepherded them off the site.


By a remarkable coincidence, shortly afterwards, 6 geezers dressed as sheep entered the field. Fair play, these boys were game. They were happy to pose for photos, getting down on all fours for the full sheep effect. At one point, they rounded themselves up into a “pen”. They turned down my offer of 6 shirts at a good discount, but I was not to be put off, and nabbed them the following day and gave them an even better discount. I asked who was the stag. None of them, I was told – they were all sheep.


I had an enjoyable enough day, with Jean watching the stall whenever nature called. There were not that many people really interested in poetry, but the few that were made it worthwhile. I even met someone from Liverpool who recognised the artwork on the cover of J. Brookes’ book as being by Naïve John, which I was dead impressed by. At around 8.30, I packed up, and once again headed out to party, with a vague plan to meet up with a couple of customers I’d met.


Instead of meeting them however, I ran into a couple of old school friends. One of them I’d seen so infrequently since school that they still referred to me by my surname, as I was commonly known in school, and it was a bit awkward when they tried to introduce me to people. After a while, I left them sipping their real ale, and went for some real fun, lager in hand, to the drum’n’bass tent. I got on the stage with a kid I’d met by the half-pipe, which was a laugh. At about 3, that was all over, but one other tent was still open, and here I had some fun with some kids attempting to beatbox. Finally hit the hay about 6am.


I woke to a hangover and the sound of rain pounding on the tent at about 12am. It was to be no early start this time. I finally ventured out at about 3pm. To my surprise, the rain really wasn’t that heavy – the sound of rain on a tent is slightly deceptive, as seasoned campers are no doubt aware. It didn’t matter that I was to be late getting up. As my “stall” was outdoors, it would be no use setting it up this day. Instead, I wondered round, selling discounted shirts from a bag. Despite the rain, I actually did pretty well selling shirts this way – I sold more in a couple of hours than I did for the whole of the previous day in fact, and I felt like a successful Saudi Arabian sand salesman. Get in.


29


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