While I was here.
I love being part of the machinery that makes Greenbelt happen. There’s a vast community of volunteers who make this whirl of talks, music, justice & holy madness happen. Some of us are visible, some of us not. It’s a nice community to be part of.
I was asked to blog an hour of the festival, something typical. I could blog the hour of Francis Spufford’s talk “The Child that Books Built” where I was a witness to beautiful stories of childhood reading that brings an emotional tear to my eye.
The hour over breakfast this morning where a crowd of punters staying at the hotel with me shared their love of the festival over bacon & eggs. (Yes I stay in a hotel, deal with it, there’s lots of us who do, we walk among you trying our best to look just like you do. Invasion of The Hotel Stayers, if you like)
The hour I’m going to blog is the hour I’m about to have. I’m sat looking out from the programme office in the grandstand towards the tiny tea tent, we’ve just been blessed by the wonderful Maggi Dawn singing over us (she’s delightful in so many ways!) and I’m preparing for the book club this afternoon & then heading up to a team leaders lunch. The bookclub feels a little like preparing for a GCSE English Exam, I don’t know what we’ll be asked, don’t know what the awesome Andrew Tate will think & hoping people will like my llama joke.
The lunch, ahhh, the lunch. A chance to have a spot of lunch, pause midway through the festival with other volunteers & have a private view of the Bobby Baker exhibition. An oasis, a pause, a moment where volunteers can meet, talk & absorb.
My phone buzzes & distracts my thinking. A friend has borrowed my copy of The Bridge of San Luis Rey & wants to return it. I’m off into the throngs to find him & will probably be distracted again. I love it here, the distractions are usually better than what I plan.