It is a sad reflection of passing age that I managed to forget a fairly memorable set on Friday evening. We did not go to bed after the covers band in the campsite tent, on the contrary, we danced until the wee small hours to the Ceilidh Liberation Front. Each dance flowing into the following as we became trapped at the front. Only a desperate call of nature facilitated our escape shortly before they finished as we staggered back to the tent, even more exhausted than previously mentioned, but on a superb high. The DJ set that followed couldn’t keep us awake.

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