Then the Bunkfest!

The following weekend, it was the Bunkfest, billed as music, dance, steam and beer! With storytelling, as last year in the lovely courtyard of the George Hotel and with Tim o'the Oak (from the Forest of Dean), and Tina Blibe (former secretary to the Society of Storytelling). And they were both charming to perform with! The Saturday and we did 2-6pm, taking it in turns, three sets and then a ten to fifteen minute break throughout the day, with a storyteller's corner where we all sat together to watch or to talk and drink companionably in the intervals. We heard some thoughtful tales, some hilarious, and some pretty wacky anecdotes too! And delivered tales and riddles ourselves, which went down well - the audiences we had, as Tim observed, were lovely! And built until folks were standing at the back with nowhere to sit, having come specially. The latter was very kind after a rendition of 'Tippingee' - 'I wish someone had been filming that, it was magic!' We used fabric to drape over the audience at various points, and it seem to work pretty well. Shucks.

   Lastly, that night, at the aptly names 'Late Night Club' event held in the sports centre (it doesn't start until 11pm!), we did - after a very long day wandering round the stalls and attractions, watching dark Morris dancers, and missing things as usual as we were either on at the same time or getting ready to go on! - our Carnival of Monsters (a short version for a late night and very drunken audience). After carting in all the monsters earlier and storing them under a large pool table, as directed, we then had to arrive and fish them all out again, plus signs, liaise with the host, and when I found out we were going to be on last! before the open sessions, I promptly went back to the van to go to sleep! asking Deor to wake me twenty minutes before we were on... In a way of course, it's a compliment to be the culmination or finale or whathaveyou of the evening... On the other hand, late nights are not my thing, as I tend to like to get up earlier in the mornings than that time pattern would permit.

   However at quarter to one in the morning, I was woken up, and in a terrible temper which I strove - and I venture to say managed - to master, I got up, got into costume, assembled the props, and then waited near the stage, until we were introduced, and I walked on, taking the microphone and announcing 'Welcome to Widsith and Deor Storytelling Theatre's one and only Carnival of Monsters!' or words to that effect. They were a rowdy crowd, of course, some there for the late bar and all mainly for music and dance, but they listened, shouted, and when the Diablo came forward, when I (as Il Vappo the Ringmaster from Old Venice) had summoned up the Devil, the place went silent, just for a few moments, and then booing and hissing as folks recognized 'who it was', and then joining in the banishing incantation at the end... It was a success! Rowdy, noisy, a bar and music environment, wholly unexpected as we were, we caught their attention, engaged their senses, and evoked their responses...afterward there was much praise, folks stopping Deor and requesting to take pictures of him as various monsters, and a lovely comment from the host 'Absolutely wonderful - I've never seen anything like it before.' That's what we like to hear!

   In the middle of the night in the alcoholic haze, I wondered (as we took the monsters back to their table to await being picked up at 8.15am on Sunday morning, and went back to the van to change and get some much needed sleep) how many would look back and wonder if it was a dream...it certainly seemed like one to me!

   Big thanks to Dave of the Bunkfest for having us again, and to Tim and Tina for being such good comrades in tale telling!

Bunkfest

Next came a whirlwind of museums - the British Museum just before the Poetry Cafe, then the Ashmolean Musuem, and History of Science Museum in Oxford, and some van hassles (mysterious leaks, driving round like a headless chicken trying to find a friendly garage, etc.! the usual shoestring stress), and then our performance at the Bunkfest in Oxfordshire. The Bunkfest is a really charming three day festival with an unusual mixture of big rock festival quality stalls and food and hordes of folks, (and of course lots of music), contrasted with a town festival - with events happening in parks, pubs, the main square road-blocked and given over to entertainment surrounded by stalls and peopled with happy pedestrians - and the social mix was almost greater than at some much bigger festivals, because representatives of every community in the town turned up seemingly as well as a heap of visitors, so there was a real community feel to it too. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, and the weather was lovely. As soon as we walked along the Saxon walls - very wonderful they are too, and hidden by trees and hedges around the perimeter of the park - we saw marquees and some of the usual suspects at festivals with banners flying in the breeze below, and went down into the fray. The stalls were of extremely high quality (so much so that I had to break a resolution not to buy anything!), and the atmosphere buzzy - we checked in, and were given our wristbands and welcome packs and free programmes, and then into the town centre and square where dark Morris dancers were being dramatic, followed by a splendid African dance and singing and drumming group called Zulu - there was a wonderful continuity between the two acts, and it seemed to me that different countries in far flung continents had come up with remarkably similar ways of expressing celebration and ritual. The stalls were some of the best food/farmer's markets I'd seen all summer, and the almond croissants were not to be missed! to say nothing of the goat's cheese, olives, and other treats. There were antique and vintage junk stalls too, and all in all it was surprisingly hard to tear oneself away to gather the props and set up in the venue.
The courtyard of the George Hotel was a delightful space to perform in, and we shared the three hour performance time with Tim O' The Oak, surrounded by black wicker sofas and chairs with deep white cushions (reminiscent of French cafes) and smoked glass tables. Each set went really well, and our audiences were attentive and rewarding, joining in or cheering at the right places, and Tim bought us drinks very kindly. We were sorry to leave, but had to be off back to Devon to prepare for the Porlock Festival. It's hard to pin down why the Bunkfest was so special - perhaps its mixture of everyone coming out to have fun, serendipity for those not expecting it, large number of free events and generally taking over the town yet being a 'proper festival' was hard to beat, and I was surprised how much fun one could pack into a single day.
BIG thanks to Dave for booking us, the whole Bunkfest team for putting on such a great show, Tim O' The Oak for being so good to share a venue with, and telling such verve filled tales, and the staff at the George Hotel for being so accommodating, and our lovely audiences!