missing dust jacket

A trip to the loo means we end up dancing in front of a little group called The Duke Box (or something like that) performing a skiffley version of Hot Chip’s Over and Over. They are indeed a live juke-box, who can apparently play anything. When I next use those very same loos they have pulled quite a crowd with their shuffley version of Black Box’s Ride on Time. Marvellous.

Watching my sister and her boyfriend gawp at trapeze artists, blindfolded buff body balancers, some french juggling of cigars and bowler hats, and men in thongs on trapezes (imagine it), proves more entertaining than it should be in the Circus tent. But when they go off to see Modest Mouse the heavens suddenly open and minifig and I hurry into the Cabaret tent for some pretty unfunny comedy to get out of the rain. Desperate for shelter and a good show we run back to the Cabaret tent to watch an Italian man attempt to juggle while riding a unicycle as the rain pours into the tent, splashing lethal puddles all over the stage. Amazingly, despite the fact the stage has become a swimming pool, he succeeds, charming the audience into the bargain.

Luckily, the rain calms down in time for Soweto Kinch on the Jazz World stage, who has unfortunately suffered a power-cut due to the torrential downpour. However, after a late start, the Birmingham saxophonist and his band deliver a literally breathtaking performance, and suddenly I get why people are into live jazz. The thing that most struck me about Soweto Kinch and his band was the face-breaking smiles they all wore throughout their set. You could just see the drummer, arms working with a surgeon’s precision and the power of a jackhammer, thinking damn, I’m effing brilliant at my job. A class act.

And that takes us up to Friday morning. I’ll come back later with more but I’ve got work to do and the seemingly endless Glastonbury laundry to get through, plus I’m really annoyed with writing in the present tense – don’t know why I did it. x