Beautiful 15-degree Tasmania. Much more civilised than walking around with a wet sarong and a fan. Well that's what we thought until we saw our 'showers' and longed to be back in the Woodford campground. We arrived at the Cygnet folk festival in Helen's red truck and quickly went off to find out about our accommodation (being an interstate act we were being billeted… or so we thought). Our accommodation for the weekend turned out to be a massive scout hall, thoughtfully equipped with mattresses and bedding (mine, Paul's and Sair's up one end and Mannie way down in his snore-proof corner), our own toilets and to our delight – a kettle and coffee! A huge thanks to Leanne for setting us up so comfortably. The showers however, were a different story. Picture this: a bucket, a rope, a temporary stall and shower curtain and one monster wind sweeping through the room. After attempting to shower using the kitchen sink, Sair and I eventually braved it, taking turns holding the shower curtain in place for each other so we could at least use our bucket in private. (The next day Roz Pappalardo took pity on us and offered us the use of their shower – thanks Roz!).
So I guess I should actually go back to some sort of musical reference, seeing as we were at a festival with quite an amazing line up. Within minutes of arriving we had run into Dougie MacLean, Andrew Winton, various To'Rags and Roz, Geoff and Silas from Women in Docs. It was going to be a good festival. We kicked off the night watching Women in Docs rock it out in the town hall, before heading down to our own gig at the RSL. Despite some technical failures (and a very unhappy Paul having to play without his gadgets), the gig was great and it was amazing to catch up with some old Tassie friends (and a few that followed us all the way from Brisbane!).
Later that night, still on a high from the gig, Paul and I left sleeping beauty 1 and 2 in search of some fun… and maybe a wee dram. As we wandered the treacherous streets (bit of a Paul-writer moment there) we wound up at the middle pub (as opposed to bottom pub or top pub – I'm not joking), and were instantly claimed by none other than Dougie MacLean. Having made it through the streets himself (not an easy task after dark in Cygnet) and studying the choice of sessions being played madly throughout the pub, we decided that instead of playing it was necessary to drink and solve the problems of the world. Which of course we did. Take that world! We also decided that an inter-band, inter-country, inter-festival gig collaboration was necessary and settled upon a time and meeting place for the following day to hatch our plans.
So it was that we found ourselves on the verandah of Dougie and Jenny's cottage, playing and singing, taking silly photo's, and watching Helen's absolutely delighted expression as she convinced the MacLean's to visit Stanton after the festival. The end product was a guest appearance of the Bronzed Super-god himself (a bit of a joke after Dougie had played wearing sleeve-less tops and shorts up at Woodford and had acquired a decent tan) during the Sunas concert that afternoon. With a newly arranged version of Green Grow the Rashes, and the debut of Dougie's newly purchased tuneable didgeridoo during Travelling Man, you couldn't wipe the smiles of our faces. The day only got better with an impromptu session in the beer garden of the bottom pub, where Sair and Dougie attempted to out-smut each other through song.
Somewhere in there was a workshop, another gig, more catching up with friends (in particular sitting outside the pub for a good few hours with Chanel and Geoff, before being taken over by extremely enthusiastic Morris dancers!), drinking, the discovery of the curry box, and poor Sair battling the flu and coming very close to losing her voice. Sickness aside, it was a brilliant weekend and the fun only continued as we headed back to Stanton for another week or so.
That's all for now…
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