Many years ago Mr Pet Human and I hatched a masterplan to convince Mrs Pet Human that the Folk Festival is a horrid, damp, noisy, smelly event that she wants no part of. This year our cunning plan came to fruition and Mrs Pet Human left Folkie Base Camp (the tent) after four hours, FOUR HOURS, to go home and watch Eastenders instead. It took some doing, especially as there was a good chance of spotting one of her heroines at the not Absolutely Fabulous Folk Festival. We have paid off the man who was spraying water on the tent as though it was raining, and the hordes of kids who we paid to trip over the guyropes and we've hit the bar. Hurrah!


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