The Good Old Days

Oh for those early folk festivals, camping under an old blanket, after traveling several hundred miles on horse back or bicycle; and all of this after knitting our own clothes. A raw potato for lunch, none of those rip off caterers, and then we would wash it down with really real ale, with rats still swimming in the vat. All of our men folk had lusty beards whereas most of the women only had moustaches and hairy legs. The kids had hours of entertainment with a pigs bladder on a stick; the pig bloody hated it

The main venue was in an old tin of Betty Swollocks cough drops, we didn't need amplification in them days, the singer would sing the first line of the song and runners would come and tell us what was it was all about. The top artists used to pay us to perform and then beg for their lives after the last song. Banjo players were strung up before they started. We didn't have ceilidhs in those days as a any man prepared to take part in dancing was considered to be batting for the other side. Stewards were issued with large clubs to keep good order and T shirts with "That's very interesting now bugger off" printed on the front.

Fond memories, I wonder if you have any?