Sharon’s festy blog: Camp Bestival

It says a lot about a festival that I can’t summon the energy to review it until three days afterwards…to say I’m knackered after Camp Bestival would be an understatement, and that’s only partly due to the eight month-old waking me up each day at seven am.

It wasn’t that large (but it was bigger and busier than last year), there weren’t dozens of stages to run between like Glastonbury, but the combination of child-magnet activities and must-see bands meant that when I wasn’t being dragged onto the PSP bus or through a life-size recreation of Bikini Bottom (Spongebob Squarepants’ cartoon home, not half a swimming costume), there was always something to catch on the mainstage or in the Big Top.

This was the second year of Camp Bestival, which styles itself somewhere between a holiday camp experience and a rock festival, and while the organisation seemed to have improved on last year, the extra crowds with the day ticket holders meant we lost a bit of the village fete feel of 2008. There have been a lot of complaints about the price of beer (at £3.70 for a can of Tuborg, it was steep), but I must admit we totally failed to notice the no own-alcohol policy and brazenly walked in with a plastic bottle of wine and a few cans tucked under the pushchair. Others apperently weren’t so lucky and were forced to drink their booze at the arena gates before stumbling in for the day’s entertainments and bar prices.

Security were lax in some departments and heavy in others. Bizarrely, we were asked, as we pulled up in the VW, whether we had any knives. “Er yes, this is a camper van, we have cutlery on board,” we replied. “Don’t take it out of the camp site,” security warned. What were we gonna do – spoon someone to death?

But what about the entertainment? Well the biggest hype of the weekend, PJ Harvey’s acoustic set in the Big Top, passed us by. Big Top shows aren’t the most family-friendly by definition – you’re in an enclosed space, kids can get frightened and/or squashed and the music is generally louder than on outdoor stages. As Saturday wore on, the glorious sunshine was replaced by a nippy evening and we headed back to the campsite to put on jumpers etc, whereupon Son #1 declared that he was exhausted and was going to bed. This was such an unusual occurrance that we decided to make the most of it and have a campsite evening with tequila and wine instead. (Oh, how we party these days…).

But we did manage to see a bit of Florence and The Machine and a revitalised Kid Creole and the Coconuts on Friday night, a nice juxtaposition of the old and the new. On Saturday afternoon, we caught a set by my personal favourite Frank Turner which showcased some catchy songs off his forthcoming third album, as well as some singalong oldies.

Musically though, Sunday ruled. Headliners Chic ploughed their way through Nile Rodgers’ back catalogue of dance hits in the pouring rain and nobody seemed to mind. Roots Manuva and veteran songstress Candi Staton warmed up the crowd who were mostly in animal-style fancy dress and determined to see the weekend out dancing, whatever the weather.

We caught the fireworks finale in the rear view mirror as we headed homewards in time for work the next morning – not a perfect festival by any means, but totally family-friendly and hopefully Rob da Bank and co will have many future years of Camp Bestivals to work on the perfect mix.