Sidmouth Folk Festival: Devon

There were stalls that sold beads and bracelets, henna tattooes and hair braiding. Street performers played traditional songs on quirky instruments. Many of the men in attendance were bearded, beer-gutted and middle-aged; the women post-menopausal, frizzy-haired and bespetacled. I did, however, pass several cute women in their early twenties who were apparently unattached. I wondered whether any of them would have liked me to be their dorky boyfriend.

It was essentially - like most festivals - an excuse to get drunk and listen to music. I fully endorsed this concept, although I eventually discarded the music-listening element in favour of conversation.

"What's the difference between a jig and a shanty?" I asked my uncle.
"I don't know - what is the difference between a jig and a shanty?"
"It's not a joke, I thought you might know"
"I dunno - sorry"

On the journey home, I listened to Bob Dylan's spoken voice on the car radio and watched the damp countryside pass by.