Tallington 2004 was a huge sprawling success. It was bigger, better, and dryer than ever before, and we would like to take this opportunity firstly to thank Pete for having us again, and secondly to all the people who turned up and made it such a good one.
to say we’ll be back next year, on the weekend of July 15th, booked
early in order to allow everyone to get it into their diaries as soon
What a star-studded cast of thousands we had for you this year. Driving south through the overcast and the traffic jams there was a sense of faint foreboding in the company van. Last year it had been most wondrous soggy, and we were not quite sure looking at the sky if it wasn’t going to chuck it down. Fortunately, by the time your correspondent was well and truly wedged in roadworks near Newark, the bad weather had passed on Northwards, and by the time we rolled over the level crossing at Tallington there were puddles on the ground but a clear blue sky. There was also what seemed to be a sea of tents as far as the eye could see, which was splendid, but boded ill for the cricket match.
sundry were pleased to note that the Outback Bar was open, which necessitated
a ‘walk of shame’ across the stage to purchase liquor. No
gazebos for the bands this year though, so at least if it did rain,
the risk of death was lessened…
then, and far too early a start in which your correspondent emerged
from his tent in the crisp dawn to see a certain young man widdling
into a hedge. The sun rose. The campers woke – as did about a
billion stripey hover flies, all of them bent on impersonating wasps
for the weekend. “They’re from France,” someone told
me. If this was the case, then it’s the nearest Blyth have come
to a French audience in 20 years. Bastards.
That old bloke got up and did a bit of space filling next, allowing the assembled honest burgers to enjoy the stalls and sideshows, including Annie’s Magic Matchboxes – everyone a winner – and TDL’s amazing Keg Board, at which punters were invited to hurl large pairs of underpants, to win fabulous prizes of a free go…
At last, the missing members of Jack arrived, and the band proceeded to play punk rock up until it was time to break for lunch, and cricket.
Aha. The cricket. The less said about that the better, since we lost. Suffice it to say, that the usual amount of cheating, foul play, bad sportsmanship and children changing their T-shirts in order to sneak back in among the waiting batsmen and have another go ensued (you thought we hadn’t noticed?).
Bash the Bishops won, but only because our sweeping style was cramped by the immediate proximity to the wicket of a large amount of cars and tents. Boo Hoo.
Evening came around, and with it a splendid line up of musical happenings. Mr Matt Foster and Nick Halliwell crooned and strummed sweetly.
ensemble repeated last year’s splendid performance, augmented
with a version of Milk Milk Lemonade, Round The Corner Chocolate’s
Made, which engendered a spirit of nostalgia throughout the beer garden.
It was then time for Eastfield, which meant that the crowd, now swollen
by day-trippers and late arrivals was afforded the opportunity to hurl
buns at Jessi Adams. Always a popular sport.
So what happened on the Sunday morning? Well, we had another jolly matinee of course. First the very delightful Eastfield did another set, then Pog astonished us with their wit and wisdom, followed by Anal Beard, which was a real eye-opener for everyone as they performed a children’s-entertainers-from-Hell routine. It was a magical moment.
Blyth wound up the weekend with another set, this time with Jerry from Jack, or Joshua from Jellybean, or was it Jarvis from Jupiter playing bass? This was super fun, and not even the old man’s pompous pronouncements could mar the spirit of the occasion.
The sun beat down on all our endeavours, and then everyone left, bit by bit, until a solitary large purple tent remained.
That was us. Looking round the empty field, quiet and still save the inevitable French flies the Old Despot was moved to soliloquy:
emperor’s army was scattered and when the soldiers had wandered
He was going to enlarge, but fortunately, a passing train shattered the silence and drowned out his voice.