Thanks to The Boys From Marketing (yes, again). Two great sets and a ruddy good laugh.
Thanks to Mr Da Bank for the rider. I drank until I couldn’t feel feelings any more.
Thanks to FryDog for leading the jam band on Sunday evening, as the sun came down. Well played, Sir. Well played indeed. Even in the band name battle….which I obviously won. (Sleepy Resistance and Gates Of Hull got the best reception, I think)
Thanks to the audience at the same for spontaneously creating the chorus for the new PFR anthem.
Thanks to the local journalist who interviewed GrayDog and I at the main stage (during De La Soul’s set). It was just the look he was after. It’s all about surfaces with some people…
Thanks to GrayDog for telling the journalist “Put your i-pad away mate, this ain’t work time, this is party time!” (They didn’t print that bit, funny enough)
Thanks also to GrayDog for his “You really hoyt my feelings…” speech at the same show. The NY accent wasn’t too bad, to be fair.
Thanks also to GrayDog for some great jamband banter: “If you want to buy a CD, or find out more about our band, you can’t. Because we don’t exist.”
Thanks to Jez, especially for her song about the time Johnny T proposed to her during her set.
Thanks to Lisa, who starred in the latest round of Pissed-Up Singer Spotlight at the PFR.
Thanks to the lad with the Public Enemy t-shirt. You know who you are.
Thanks to all the crazy kids for all the crazy gossip.
Thanks to Alba for driving, and Thanks to her and the passengers for the classic songs on the journey home (At Least No One Died was probably my favourite, and I also liked the one about the sexist snail. They were all pretty good though.)
Thanks for everyone that cheered at the end of the verse in “Buck It List”. It’s quite a new song, and it was very pleasing to get such a good reaction.
Thanks to the man who doesn’t like rap but liked our set. It’s funny how often I hear that…
Thanks to the generator team, who managed to put a 24-hour power generator right next to our camping area. It was about the volume of a Foo Fighters concert. And about as listenable.
Thanks to Cat for the earplugs.
Thanks to Grace Jones. I only saw ten minutes of it, but fucking hell….she’s 67, she was naked and covered in body paint. (I didn’t realise this at the time ). Her hat was a glitter ball, and had red and green light firing on to it. She put on a massive horse-mane-looking head-dress just before I left.
Thanks to Slaves, main stage, Sunday: I wrote a whole song in answer to yours (mine was called You’re Not Dead Yet), and then went and ranted a review at FryDog.
Thanks also to the woman who lent me a pen. I just couldn’t wait.
Thanks to Eeva for cooking dinner, it was the perfect homecoming.
Thanks to everyone for bearing with all this. I know I do it a lot, but I really have got a lot for which to be grateful, and I am very aware of it. Thanks, everyone.