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| Brooding skies |
With the horrendous news footage of Hurricane Irma fresh in
our minds and a pretty iffy UK forecast in prospect, I was feeling quite relieved that we had taken the decision to book into Malvern’s Premier Inn for the
weekend of Busfest.
After the school run on Friday, we headed over to
Malvern to join Gaz. Thankfully, we dodged any
thunder and lightning. I must have been
really awful in a previous life. I hate
driving when there is lightning. I duck every time there is a flash, just as though I am anticipating being
struck down by a thunder bolt. Not the
best approach when in charge of a moving vehicle.
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| Makeshift Flag |
Under any other circumstances, it’s hard not to relax,
driving along the Worcester Road - the vantage point being the stunning peaks of the Malvern hills. However, Busfest is
the world’s biggest VW Transporter show and attracts visitors from all over the
globe. You usually hit the ground
running, fueled by adrenaline, conversation and coffee, until it’s time to pack away and
then the wave of tiredness hits...
Fortunately for Gaz, Friday had been a slow and steady day for trade, as the masses were busy
arriving on site and keen to set up before the weather turned moody.
I had a walk around and caught up with Anna (IseaSurf). We talked screen
printing, coastal living and sinus infections
(hope you’re feeling better Anna!)
Of
course, I didn’t leave empty handed and purchased a pair of funky mermaid
leggings (third from right). That’s the beauty of the
festival season. Even if you forget
your suitcase, you can always pull together an individual outfit for a reasonable
price.
We spent the evening
catching up with friends, but this time, when the air temperature became
distinctly autumnal, we headed off to our luxury hideaway – a trading estate in
Malvern. Doesn’t sound very glam does
it? But it was quiet and the beds
really are as comfy as Lenny Henry says in the adverts.
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| Malvern digs |
So, somewhat refreshed and distinctly perkier that we might
usually be early on a Saturday morning, we headed back to the showground for an
exceptional day’s trading. Our
neighbours, Retro Classic Clothing, had kept an eye on our stand during our brief
morning absence as we were en route to the site. It also gave them
chance to exact revenge on Gaz (more on that later) after he initiated what I
can only describe as “Sticker Slap Guerilla Warfare.” In short, Gaz was slowly but surely re-branding their stand as
Voodoo Street by covering every available surface with our promotional
stickers.
We met the hardcore VW festival-goers and regular Voodoo Street visitors
(always a pleasure), but also, being Busfest, encountered people from all over
the world. One of my favourite moments
was during an unintentional music-off with the stand opposite. We had Joy Division’s Love Will Tear Us
Apart blasting our of our BruteBox; the opposition something very
different. They cranked up their volume
a little more than was necessary, much to the irritation of one German visitor,
who was clearly enjoying our song choice.
He was moved to poke his head through our gazebo to announce, in heavily
accented English: “I love ze Joy Division!” and like the scene out of
Sparticus, prompted several other voices to echo his sentiment.  |
| The Invisible Man |
Gaz also had a bizarre exchange with a Mexican, who promised
him that when he returned to Mexico, “You and I will do good things with Voodoo
Street.”
By Saturday evening, we were fit to drop. Gaz doesn't sleep well at the best of times (I on the other hand am usually out as soon as my head hits the pillow). A visit to our neighbours camping pitch (complete
with inflatable sofas) and another quick catch up with friends and we were off
to enjoy the spoils of our visit to Morrisons (wine, cheese, vintage cider, crisps,
brownies) and sit back for a night of terrible Saturday night TV in our hotel
room. How rock and roll are we? If I could have, I would have thrown the TV
out of the window, but we were on the ground floor, and the windows don't open.
Sunday morning was slow to start, a lot of day visitors
being put off by the weather. Caleb and
I bailed at around 2 pm, personally escorted off site by one of the stewards. Gaz held the fort until closing time.
After we’d caught up on online orders and enquiries, we were enjoying a couple of drinks, when, in the midst of a conversation about the weekend, Gaz spotted that Retro Classic Clothing had sticker
slapped his trainers. He was so dog
tired, he only spotted their handywork after he’d paraded around our local
supermarket in them. You guys!!!
Next weekend it’s Vdubs in the Valley and we are praying to
the sun gods that the weather improves.
I’m hoping that it’s not a bad omen that Gaz’s offer of a fresh, hot
pasty to a homeless person today was met with: “I can’t eat steak and
ale.” Until next time!
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