All the fun of the Sidmouth Folk Festival

Mr Grigg, the Sheepwashes and I are recovering from a village charabanc trip to the Sidmouth Folk Festival. Living in the square meant the coach pulled up right outside our house. It really was door-to-door service and the one-legged trip organiser pledged to be legless on the way back. Super Mario and Princess Peach nestled in to one of the seats up front while we spread ourselves out in the back seat just in front of an already inebriated General Custer. There were 35 of us in all, most from the neighbouring village.

One of the highlights was the drunken community singing on the return journey, led by a man with a guitar and his tipsy wife in a flowery straw hat. We all joined in, apart from Mr Sheepwash who spent the entire half-hour with his mouth agape.

The seaside town was full of mellow folk, with jingly bells on their legs, carrying double basses in cases, dancing in pub gardens, enjoying picnics in public parks, queuing for the lavatories, sitting outside genteel hotels while bowlers concentrated on their usual Sunday match, oblivious to the sights and sounds around them. A pair of whippets called Bob and Jack sported rather fetching neckerchiefs.

At lunch in the park, Mr Grigg and Mr Sheepwash shared earpieces to catch up on the cricket scores and then slipped off to a pub to see the last of England's innings.

Meanwhile, the seafront was awash with morris dancers and buskers.

The best was our very own Stomping Dave, who plays at our village fun day every year. At Sidmouth he was reunited with his partner, the diminutive Professor Oz.

So, for your delectation, a couple more videos capturing the spirit of the day.

Oh, incidentally, I didn't get the job. ButI'm not disheartened. To tell you the truth, I'd almost backed out at the last minute anyway, wondering what on earth I was doing contemplating full-time, permanent work in an office.

My personality test showed top of the scale for independent thinker (not team player material) and bottom for not being very good with numbers. Having achieved grade three CSE maths three times, the third time with the aid of private tuition, this number dyslexia has always been a stumbling block. And when you are meant to be in charge of a budget, being rubbish at maths is not good.

I was also low persuasive and very high mistrusting. The results of the test were meant to be confidential. But ironically, the last outcome was repeated to me later by a third party unconnected to the organisation. Enough said.

Here's to a creative and sunny (I hope) August.

That's about it

Love Maddie x