All right - I suppose it's time to confess - There was NO ITALIAN CHOCOLATE!! So the festival was less than perfect.

I guess then I shouldn't mention all the other yummy food, Martin Pearson at his absolute best with John Thompson as Never the Twain, or their final midnight concert on Monday night with James and Nancy and Kate Fagan, or the spicy aromas of the mulled wine at the Troubadour, or the nightly singing sessions in the Singing Room, followed by sessions in the stairwell till stupid o'clock (I went to bed at 6am on Sunday night/Monday morning), or the antics of the Morris Men dressed as belly dancers - especially one Ken Smith who wore a fetching hot pink number, and Ricarda's 'Obby 'Oss, and Nick's giant moose (at least I think it was a moose).

I also shouldn't tell you about the lovely night some of us spent in Spaghetti Junction with piles of pasta, crusty garlic bread and a few bottles of wine, or sitting in the Stock Camp near the smoky open fire eating hearty stew served up with damper and billy tea, or the wonderful madness of people like Bruce Watson, Mal Webb with his sound effects, and Mic Conway's National Junk Band, or Bugsy cracking us up with the Fishfinger Song up in the Singing Room.....

No, I won't tell you about these things, I'll just let you experience some of them next time you come. Roll on 2008!