The Cambridge Club festival provided a welcome opportunity for NHSontheRun to dust off Nessa and join the stationary Friday afternoon M25 traffic.
Our general experience is that festivals are huge affairs. That arrival at the site is the start of a 90 minute nose to tail queue of uber cool 1980's VW campers. That entry to the camping area is a cumbersome affair. Here however, access to the airy Cambridgeshire site took minutes.
We were slightly flattered to be asked if we had any non prescription medication on us. But we were most perturbed to be told that we were not allowed glass bottles into the camping area.
Our case of fine red wines were safely and invisibly stashed under the bed. The fridge and additional cool box, however, were very much visible during the "search". Replete with potentially lethal quantities of chilled glass bottled beverage. Supplies enough for four functioning alcoholics to last a three day weekend. We were rumbled. Luckily our stern faced border guard, wearing a worrying pair of blue gloves, was congenial enough. My suggestion that Mrs NHSontheRun was a drugs mule and should be searched immediately broke the atmosphere. We were waived through with a conspiratorial wink. Just drink it inside the van he said.
We were directed to the front row of the camper van area. Experienced festival goers will understand why this was a worry. Clean shiny day one portable toilets with their pleasant chemical whiff were situated immediately in front of the allocated slot. Our loudly voiced concerns were met with immediate and friendly redirection to an area sufficiently far away. So even by Sunday we could not hear the sound of doors slamming accompanied by horrified gagging and the standard festival goers chant "dirty bastards! I can't fukin go in that one!".
The sun was out. Grace Jones was due on at 9pm. Our guests were on their way. There was nothing for it but to crack open the pink fizz. Our first of one hundred and fifty seven breaches of the "inside the van" rule. I absolutely love a festival.
This is the smallest festival we've been to. Easy access, great vibe, not bad line up, no queues. What's not to like? Highly recommended. The crowd was pretty heterogeneous given the middle England location, most age and ethnic groups representing, which was a very welcome thing. Although I must admit that the only teens I saw looked bare grumpy and sat in the VIP area while mummy was being facejazzled.
Music first. Grace Jones headlined Friday night. Preceded by Alexander O'Neal. Honestly, it was warm, and beer and rosé won over Alexander. Our pitch was 100 yards away from the Main stage, so although we didn't have the view we did enjoy the vibe. I'm sure you won't Criticize (sorry). We saw AO last year at Jazz Cafe. Time hasn't been as kind perhaps as to Grace, but the vocals remain powerful and soulful.
Now Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound! Raunchy. It feels wrong to say it, but sexy too. Certainly mad as a bag of wasps. What stage presence. Core strength enough to hoola hoop through the entirety of Keep it Up, belying her three quarters of a century age tag. Basque and teeth. We loved every moment of her set.
Some cool grooves later in the fabulous chilled Orchard area with shade and proper cocktails. The Spicy Margarita was a little too good. Late night standard cheesy chips and pulled pork baps rounded off a memorable day. The walk back to the van was not entirely linear, but we were pacing ourselves, and woke Saturday merely a little dry mouthed, rather than formally hanging.
Both Saturday and Sunday mornings, along with at least 100 others we attended the morning yoga session. A full hour of flow to start the day reminding us that everyday should begin like this. Namaste. Reboot for the boogie.
Saturday held Lamar, Jo Whiley, The Real Thing, Sophie Ellis-Bextor and Lionel Ritchie in store. Temperatures hitting 29*c, limitless refreshment available in Nessa. A pattern was established and we chilled. Listened from the shade and enjoyed a mellow soulful afternoon. Really could not have been anywhere better in the world. Perfect #vanlife lunch of medium rare sliced sirloin on a spicy cold noodle salad washed down with Albarino, then cheeses accompanied by big bold Portugese reds, as close to Port (without the headache) as you can get.
Early evening we ventured back to the main stage. By 9pm we were ready for some Dancing on the Ceiling and slick Lionel, the perfect Vagas showman did not disappoint with his Commodores classics and solo numbers. His back catalogue is incredible and his voice and crowd pleasing chat undimmed by the passage of the last 40 years. With so much space and such a small crowd by his standards, we were really treated to a sound system and performance I would rate with any that I have seen.
The only disappointment of the day was the Rumours session, which we assumed would be a FWMc tribute act, due at 11pm in the Orchard area. Turned out to be some skanky remixes (four to be precise) of the old classics played out by a DJ. Anyway by then the heat had taken its toll. The rave tent and disco area lost their appeal. We began to feel our age and started to think about a nice mug of Horlicks and an early night. Back at the van I found some chocolates and Armagnac "hidden" and sat looking at the stars for a while.
Sunday line up could have been really good, but we had had two pretty large days. Kool and the Gang, Billy Ocean and Odyssey. We forced a lager at midday, stood in the sun and watched Craig Charles disco set, then decided that we should quit before the downpour.
Home by 6pm. Tomorrow a school day. Refreshed relaxed, and chilled.
Love being in Nessa, festival chill is the best, overall a great weekend. Thanks to our mates J&L who were great company, but who, despite being two of the countries finest and highest achieving educationalists turned out to be completely shit at putting up an awning and taking down a two man tent.
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