Solfest. What can we say? A more unlikely spot for a music festival is hard to imagine. Perched about a mile from the remote coast of North West Cumbria, to be found only by a process involving attending several of Proffessor Trelawney's divination classes, we were first greeted by a lollipop lady. Or maybe it was a lollipop man. Hard to say. The legend sprawled untidily across the middle of the lollipop was "Hippies crossing". And they were. In their droves, bless them. Resisting the opportunity for a large points haul we waited patiently as a stream of folk who appeared to have acquired the skill of time travel (together with a number of children who appeared to be similarly blessed) paraded from the campsite to the festival entrance.
On we went. Artist's entrance? Down the road on the right. It was in fact on the left.
We arrived, we
registered, we waited, we eventually drove up to the Bar Stage, where we were
due to play. What's that? A familiar face? Indeed it was El Heapo himself, AKA
Phil Haslehurst, manager of the Rum Story in Whitehaven, DJ, poet, philosopher,
musician and all round good egg. 
And his good lady.
Bar Stage doesn't really do it justice. An enormous tent joined to another enormous tent. Big stage, big sound system. The tent was so long there was a time delay PA relay at the back.
So we listened to the band who were playing. Three young lads collectively known as Tantrum. Indie? Grunge? Heavy Rock? Not a bit of it. In fact a very bluesy outfit playing all their own material, and doing so extremely well. Do we really have to follow this, we thought.
On stage at last. How was our mix of late 60's blues and rock going to go down? The crowd had migrated to the main stage. Were they for returning?
Heapo is comparing: "We've had youth, now for some experience". Thank you Heapo. Feel old enough without you telling us.
After about thirty seconds of Bullfrog Blues people started streaming in. Eventually in their hundreds. Who were they all? It was the Hippies!
Glad that we had resisted the large points haul, we entertained them for our allocated slot of 40 minutes, to unaccustomed and huge applause, and were then given a further 10 minutes by El Heapo, who clearly recognised our quality. An alternative and totally unacceptable explanation might be that the main stage band were not ready to go on because they had arrived late due to traffic on the M6. Perish the thought!.
Thank you Solfest, thank you hippes (and others), thank you sound man and anyone else who contributed to a wonderful experience for us all.
No thanks to the lighting man who decided that as soon as we went on stage he would illuminate the back of Dugan's neck with his strategically placed toaster. Dugan was quite crisp as a result.
Steve does the Steve Smith Shimmy, for which he is rapidly becoming famous, whilst Dugan continues to toast
Alan punishes Ian, who had had him photographed in black and white, by shrinking him
Bar tent prior to the return of the hippies
The Lime Green and Purple Swing Ensemble strut their stuff