After a cup of tea in our room, we set off to find supper.  We had a beer at a local restaurant earlier in the week, and spotted that they served pizza. It being Saturday, what choice had we??

The pizzas were excellent, and required a walk afterwards.  We found the town square, which was very attractive.

We then ambled back to the hotel by a circuitous route.  We found a flower clock.

And so to bed.

The main task for Sunday was to take down the tent and pull the trolleys of gear back to the car.  We got our act together so that we took one load back before the communion service at ten, and then returned to take the tent down, by which time it was pretty much dry, and take the second load back to the car.

Just time for one more talk from an artist passionate about the provenance of leather, a quick look round the bookshop, and a final cup of tea.

Would we go again?  Probably, but not every year – and even if we don’t, we both agreed that it was an experience worth having.

Saturday, we awoke to pouring rain!  All the same, we went to “Wake up singing”, which pretty much did what it said on the tin.  After a couple more talks, we found the pub – the Jesus Arms – where I discovered that they were serving a cask stout.

Before lunch we attended a laughter workshop, which I enjoyed but I think it left Lucy rather nonplussed.

There was an art walk, which finished at Boughton House, whose grounds the festival was in.  Some of the art was interesting.  The view back towards the site was pleasant, but I didn’t think to photograph the house.

With some trepidation, we went to “Queer and Hymns” at the Hope and Anchor, which had been rebuilt by then.  It turned out to be a telling of the story of Ruth in words and song, and was my highlight of the whole event!

In the evening, we attended the Tenebrae service, which was very moving.  Toyed with the idea of another beer, but decided to be sensible…

Lucy and I spent the weekend at Greenbelt – a festival of arts and faith in the grounds of Boughton House, near Kettering.  Spread over the site were a number of venues holding music, talks, exhibitions, workshops and worship.

We arrived on Thursday evening after a long drive – trouble on the M11 – by the time we had set up the tent, we were exhausted, so we didn’t actually do anything.  The car was a twenty minute walk from where we were pitched.

Overnight on Friday there were horrendous winds, which delayed the start of the festival.  But our tent was still standing, and the day was warm and sunny once the wind died down.

We had considered, beforehand, what we might like to attend.  A few of the events were in the venue called “The Hope and Anchor”, but it had been damaged in the wind, so we found some other talks to attend, between which we wandered around getting our bearings.  The composting loos were a revelation – a much more pleasant experience than portaloos!

The main arena was mostly music – we didn’t actually attend any of the sessions, but as we were walking around, we couldn’t avoid hearing it.  In fact, we couldn’t hear one of the talks we DID go to because the arena was so loud…

In the evening, we attended Taizé worship.  I was familiar with some of their chants, but we both felt that a whole service was rather too much.

A nice, quiet way to prepare us for a decaf tea and a quieter night’s sleep.

Having received the last of the money from Daddy and Joan’s estate, it seemed like a fitting tribute to them to spend it on theatre tickets.  I began with Noel Coward’s Private Lives, starring Patricia Hodge and Nigel Havers. Very witty, and well performed, but the treatment of domestic violence is rather uncomfortable for a 21st century audience.

It was good to wander around my old theatre-land haunts, and the lights in St Martin’s Lane were pretty.