This weekend was Lancaster Music Festival.....and the castle, squares, pubs, parks, coffee shops, brewery, book shop, library - pretty much every nook and cranny - had some toons going down. Most of the musicians were home-grown (though Jim saw a fantastic band from Austria).
But the best thing was the atmosphere. The streets were quite literally alive with the sound of music and toddlers dancing alongside teenagers dancing alongside seventy year olds. A vintage bus with buskers was trundling people between venues and the programme said there were barges with music chugging up the canal too - though we couldn't find them. (But then it's all a bit wooly round the edges in Lancaster, I'm realizing.)
Even Jim was roped into playing Klezmer with some new chums at the castle.
"The weather was nice, too, wasn't it?" said a neighbour. I looked confused. It had been grey and gloomy and cold throughout the weekend. "Oh!" I said, suddenly twigging. "You mean it wasn't raining."
Everything is relative, it seems.
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