Homepage Site Map Chronicles Shop		Friday night, after the Blue Tapestry set: P.J.Wright, Julie Matthews, Helen Watson, Rob Beattie, Chris While and David Hughes. Photo: Colin Edwards
		Chris While & David Hughes (courtesy While & Matthews) David and Julie Matthews (courtesy While & Matthews) Rehearsal: Helen Watson, Julie Matthews, David, Martin Brunsden, Chris While, Mark Tucker & Jacqui McShee. Photo: Rob Beattie David & Martin Brunsden. Photo: Rob Beattie David with Martin Brunsden and Colin Lennox. Photo: Fred Hall David & Colin Lennox. Photo courtesy of www.folking.com P.J.Wright. Photo courtesy of www.folking.com The Wygs: Chris While, Julie Matthews, Jacqui McShee & Helen Watson. Photo courtesy of www.folking.com Oxford Journal, 15 Aug 2003 (Sent by Mark McCullough)		CROPREDY 2003 (Filed August 2003) So, Cropredy, how was it this year? Fantastic. It was far too bloody hot, of course but I wasn't complaining. I've slalomed the car out of that field at the end of a muddy weekend far too often recently to ever complain about sunshine. Fantastic. Anyway, Peggy said he couldn't believe how well the set up had gone in the dry weather. That was on Wednesday afternoon. We came a day early. I'd arranged with Chris and Julie to be their rum-drunk neighbour and with Mark Tucker to save him a 'nice spot'. I brought the kids it goes without saying. Taylor and Ruby were a bit bored on Wednesday evening waiting for Dougie Lake and friends to turn up. They bring with them Cropredy playmates of a suitable age and disposition. I think there's about four girls all between ten and thirteen. Last year the lot of them ended up serving on the CD stall with Matt and Tammy. Didn't see them except tea times. I sometimes think Cropredy must be a modern Arthur Ransome for kids. Going off and having adventures and lashings of 6X. Well, I must say, by the time we got there at about three-ish, it all looked pretty much present and correct, apart from the fencing. They had this real fuck-off forklift, just come out of a JCB catalogue, plant yellow, big bloody tyres and a big bloody driver. You couldn't talk when it went past. It was one of those new loud forklifts. The bloke was ferrying in small-town generators till Thursday afternoon and then he brought the whole fence in one stack. I don't mind telling you, the blokes who put it up had a little perspiration trouble. None of them wore anything except shorts and big boots. Right, so everything prepared then. Tent up. Don't know if you remember from last year, big tent; three bedrooms and a lounge for wedding receptions. That one. What I didn't know till this year because of the weather, was that the lounge actually rolls up its walls and opens out like a Greek cantina. Fantastic. Our 'spot' was halfway between the backstage gate and the stage. With the gas lamp hanging above the table and chairs everybody dropped in for a beer. Highlights for me were little Polly Ramsden (Cupman's daughter) and her brother hosing me down with their bazooka pistols when I was putting up the tent. It felt so good and lasted for half an hour till my shirt dried out. They had to do it again after that. Then there was my neighbour and friend on the other side, Colin Edwards. Colin was waiting when I arrived. He'd brought his caravan and had power from the stage generators. He plugged in a cooler box and placed it just inside my tent so that the beers were chilled. Can you ask for more from your executive producer. I don't think so. Every hour there was another generation of passers-by sitting round the table. It was wonderful to see everyone without moving off my arse. On Friday morning we had a rehearsal there. Chris and Julie, Helen, Jacqui, Gerry and Martin Brunsden, double bass and all. And then, at midnight, after the euphoria of the Blue Tapestry set, Chris and Julie sat round the table with P.J.Wright, Helen, Colin Edwards and Rob Beattie. It had been a lovely day (with the exception of course of a panicky half hour which has probably ensured my inclusion in Cropredy folklore much more than any song or my guitar). I'm not trying to tempt providence or anything but the next time I'm involved in someone's earthly remains being taken on stage at Cropredy they'll be mine. Here's a very useful tip, when you're entrusted by family and friends with somebody's ashes, always try and remember where you left them. For those who didn't know him, Colin Lennox was a Fairport fan from year zero, never missed a Cropredy. Last year, as Fairport were playing on the Saturday night, I stood for a few moments with him and Dvina in front of the sound tower. He gave me his revered copy of an early band history 'Meet On The Ledge' and asked me to get it signed by a couple of former band members he'd never been able to catch. That was the last time I saw him. I posted the book back to him. He died earlier this year but it wasn't until this week that he most definitely became a venerable part of Fairport history himself. That's official, by the way, Pegg told me. When he'd stopped laughing. I met Mark McCullough and Paul Merrick (members of the Fairport discussion group on the net - as was Colin) near the bar. They told me that Colin's family had agreed to let him attend one more Cropredy Festival, in his urn, before his ashes are scattered in that very field. Before the conversation had gone on too long I'd offered to take Colin on stage with me. Brilliant idea. So I did. He was in a canvas holdall. I put him between the monitors at the front and then began the set with Martin Brunsden on bowed saw. Of course, it didn't take long after I came off stage to realise that I'd left Colin behind. I realised the instant I saw the expectant faces of Mark and Paul standing at the fence, wanting their bag back. A double take towards the stage confirmed that the Bucket Boys were already on. The thing is, only Mark, Paul and a few other members of the Fairport List knew anything about what I'd done. I hadn't told anyone else about it, there'd been no reason to. So, if only I could keep it on a strictly 'need to know' basis then all would be well. After being ushered up to the CD tent for the signing session I rushed back. I could see the bagful of Colin was still sat between the monitors. So, with a slight sense of relief, I descended the stage steps and went to inform Mark and the others hovering at the fence not to worry. I'd go and collect Colin after the Bucket Boys were finished. As it happened, Mark in particular didn't seem too concerned by this. He could see what a laugh it was, Colin staying on for an encore and in the process, acquiring a posthumous Pegg number* of ONE. How good of them to be so charitable and brave. I even had time for coffee. Instantly, as it were, I got talking back at the tent, someone dropped by and we were engrossed until the music in the background suddenly wasn't there anymore. The Bucket Boys were off. "Ooh," I said, "got to go back up to the stage, won't be a minute." The crew were buzzing about, trying to get one riser off and another on. I managed to jump out of their way and make it onto the stage. The monitors were still there but the bag wasn't. "What's up, Dave. Have you lost something?" said one of the crew. I thought, "Oh, my God. I'm going to have to tell someone now." Which was the very thing I was hoping to avoid. I told them everything, "I've lost a bag." This didn't seem quite important enough to elicit their help whilst they were setting up Blue Tapestry. "Er, it's got the ashes of a Fairport fan in it." The risers stopped moving. Well, you can't push a drum riser when you're pissing yourself with laughter can you, be fair. God bless 'em. The stage crew, in the middle of setting up Blue Tap, scoured the stage, the sides of the stage, back stage, under the stage, on the roof, everywhere for me. Nothing. The bag had completely disappeared. On went Chris and Julie, Pete, Maart and Neill, oblivious to the havoc I was trying to wreak around them. At some point during all this, one of the technical crew said that some people had been calling up to him to say that the bag between the monitors should be given to David Hughes. He thought the bag had been given to Keith Donnelly but Donnelly knew nothing about it. In fact he looked quite school-masterly in his disdain that someone could do something so stupid. And it was about this point when I saw Pegg. "What's up?" he asked. "Colin Lennox, the guy you sent a message to before he died. Always wanted to go on stage at Cropredy. I took his ashes on with me. I forgot to bring them off. They've disappeared." Pegg doubled up. And then he was gone. He couldn't wait to tell the entire world, or at least every single person back-stage. That's right. Pegg was off. I'm sure he was calculating that if he got to everyone behind the stage by the end of the evening he could concentrate on telling the entire concert site by Saturday night. Certainly, by the end of Friday it was the sole topic of conversation Fuck Then I had a brainwave and far too late in my opinion. Where would someone put a bag that belonged to me if I wasn't around. What about the dressing room? It was no longer my dressing room by this time it belonged to Procol Harum. You only have it for a couple of hours either side of your set and I hadn't actually used it at all because my tent was closer to the stage. But there it was, a portacabin with my name on it. There was no sign of the Procols as I opened the door, in fact there was nothing in there at all except a table upon which was a bag containing Colin Lennox. God bless those wonderful people running the stage. Two minutes later, as promised, he was back over the fence into the waiting arms of Mark and Paul. All was well with the world (apart from Peggy and about a million others asking, where's Colin, or something similar). Bastards. Well, after that the entire weekend was stress free and wonderful. Albert Lee played up a storm didn't he. Each morning the kids went off to Dougie Lake's compound and came back at tea time and then again at bedtime. Now this is strictly between ourselves. Taylor and Ruby did ask what time they should be back and I told them they should return "when they thought they should" which is, after all, part of the ethos of Cropredy which they so enjoy. I said, "Don't outstay your welcome, that's all, you know what I mean?" I'm such a good father you see. "OK," said Taylor. Mind you, they were still playing cards at a quarter to three on Sunday morning when I went to collect them. It's what being a good parent is all about. It's such a drag taking the tent down. It's such a drag saying goodbye don't you think. Ah well, off to finish mixing the album. It'll be out at the end of September I think. I'm sure Colin will let you know (Edwards that is) Bastards. For the ideal introduction to David Hughes, copies of his compilation album "RECOGNISED" (19 tracks of top quality rhythmo-sardonics and 24 page booklet) are available for the astounding price of £10 plus information about his forthcoming (September) album "I CAN EXPLAIN" at www.folkshop.net *Pegg numbers: if you've played on stage with Dave Pegg you have a Pegg number of one. If you've played on stage with someone who has played on stage with Dave Pegg you have a Pegg number of two and so on. It's something that was adapted by members of the Fairport List Discussion Group and is incorporated in their FAQ: http://www.mcvax.org/fcfaq