The Secret Garden Party part 2

When we left our heroine, she was feeling like death after 2 hours sleep and dreading the prospect of a gig at 5pm with Sunday Driver on the Centre Camp stage.

Thanks to the restorative properties of fizzy  cola bottles, I was feeling vaguely alive by mid-afternoon.  The gig went well, with a great crowd who seemed to be enjoying our set:

Sunday Driver at Centre Camp

Sunday Driver on stage at Centre Camp - lovely audience not actually visible

And then I could actually relax for a bit, not having another gig for a whole 18 hours – such luxury! So I pinched a bottle of wine from backstage and headed off to find Ricky and the rest of Belleruche, in time for their gig on the Chai Wallah stage. Props to our friends Aurore and Justin for turning up with champagne in a camping flask. Classy.

Belleruche at Secret Garden Party

Kathrin: "Has anybody seen my bra straps?"

It was a great gig, and I had loads of fun dancing about like a loon at the front. Then it was just about time to watch the fireworks and a flotilla of Thai lanterns, then  head off to bed for a reasonably early night.

Thai lanterns

More Thai lanterns than I've ever seen. A veritable constellation.

Chances of a decent lie-in on Sunday were scuppered by having to be at the Living Room venue by 11am for the next Sunday Driver gig. Billed as the East Anglia Company (for all you imperial historians out there…) we played a short set of a couple of new songs, a jolly French cover, and a few Sunday Driver tracks.

Drummer Scott also made his tabla debut, playing a bit of Indian classical stuff with Joel at the start:

Joel and Scott Secret Garden Party

On stage at the Living Room. Like a sauna, only sweatier

The Living Room is a big, red marquee with closed sides and no ventilation. It was extremely hot and stuffy, even by noon.  Urgh.

Then I had just enough time to scoot round to the main stage and catch Belleruche’s second gig. It was a tough crowd but they rose to the occasion admirably:

Belleruche main stage Secret Garden Party

Belleruche on the main stage. They looked tiny. I should probably have sat closer

Four gigs down, one to go, and I was really tasting it. My skin crawled with heat rash under the patina of dirt and sunscreen, and I was tired, tired, tired. Though this amused me:

Backstage at Secret garden party

Quite why you'd have a model Yeti backstage at a festival is beyond me.

Stay tuned for part three, in which I finally turn into a zombie.

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