Got to the festival a bit late today, as I felt a lie in wasn't out of order.
Not the smartest of moves, since I woke up covered in mossie bites. Somehow I'd got it into my head that mosquitoes weren't going to be a problem here but woke up with nine bites, including one on the heel of my right hand from one bloody-minded one who obviously fancied a challenge.
Anyway, dosed up on antihistamine and got to the stage with 10 minutes to spare. No chance of a good seat by that time so stood up front and slapped on the factor 30. No matter, Richard Thompson was well worth it. He's not known as Britain's finest acoustic guitarist for nothing and he didn't disappoint.
Reading back over yesterday's post I was possibly a little harsh on Al Stewart but is guitar work is to Thompson's what Kitty is to a Siberian tiger. Thompson is still blindingly quick on the frets, takes chords from all musical styles and blends them into music that ranges from angry to very, very funny.
He's also got the banter, opening by remarking that the crowd looked very happy, just the right side of smug, and recounting earlier trips to Sausalito with the hope that the waitresses in the Hotel Triton were still as accommodating.
But the music was the thing, and for 90 minutes he played a good mix of new stuff and the classics. All in all a masterful performance.
To top the day off I wandered round the fair and got caught by a sculpture. I don't really collect art but every once in a while I'll see something and just become entranced. Some hard negotiation followed but I'm now a proud owner of a Lockwood carving that overlooks the bed.
Then it was off to J's for a barbecue. He and his wife have a lovely apartment overlooking the bay and we sat on the deck, drank wine and ate good food before catching the bus home. Work is going to be a trial tomorrow.
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