Festival fever grips small Island somewhere off the south coast of England

The IOW Festival is almost here and the Island is gripped by a strange fever. Normally staid and very square middle-aged people seem to metamorphose temporarily into rock-chicks and Diamond-Dave Dads. Like delicate moths or nymphs, this strange sub-species can be seen dancing with a total lack of self-consciousness for 3 glorious evenings before reverting back to type as quickly as you can say 'I hope Mick and Keef have remembered that they're supposed to be headlining on Sunday night'. No doubt the promoter has organised the 37 telephone lines backstage for da boys, the snooker room and the exclusive warm-up area where no ordinary mortals may tread. It's only rock 'n' roll. You do wonder where the estimated 30,000 Island Festivalgoers are on the other 51 weekends of the year when they never turn out to watch any number of talented local bands play at local pubs and clubs. Whinge.

Today's Festival or should I say Rock Extravagansa bare no resemblance to those of the late 60's/early 70's. The onus is on the promoter to pack 'em in, keep them safe, sell as much beer and food as possible, and put on a few acts to keep everyone happy. It's a business like any other. I want to know if the footy pitches are going to be alright for the start of the season in August? I expect not. The Cosmic Lawnmower better pull his finger out.

Already the camp sites are chocka, and droves of scruffy kids (they can't possibly be 18, can they?) are ferrying cases of beer from Morrisons and Sainsburys to the campsite like a chain of human ants. Sickness and annual leave rates become stratospheric on Friday and Monday, and the disruption to the roads on the vital Ryde-Wootton-Newpost axis makes going about ones normal business a waste of time. I can't get to the Private Hossy on Friday which means I miss my favourite and important carbo-loading 'meal of the week'.
The wide-boys, touts and pushers can already be spotted near Medina with their London and sarf-coast accents, and that tough but shifty-eyed look and demeanour. Not that the locals aren't immune to making a bob or two. Some folk living along Fairlee Road have stockpiled beer, spirits and water in their garage and are already selling it off from their front drives at a healthy profit. Compensation for 3 days of disruption some say.

Google on wight festival to see the line-up.
I see Echo and the Bunnymen are on Friday, a band I saw about 10 times in Eric's Club, Liverpool when I used to live there getting on for 30 years ago. Amazing. The last two years, by the time I'd finished work, got across the Island, parked, walked and queued to get in , I had missed the very bands that I was really keen to see. I missed Supergrass two years ago. Boys, was I pissed.
Saturday Mick Jones' new band Carbon/Silicon are playing. Hmmmm. Could be interesting.

Anyway, I'll be either cycling or fishing this weekend.
The legs have been a little tired after an 80-miler earlier this week so come the weekend I'm planning a couple of speed sessions and a fat-burner. Nothing too drastic. Obviously, I'm looking ahead to next week's sojourn in the South of France, as I don't want to arrive at the foot of Mont Ventoux with no whooomph in the old muscles.
A week on Sunday I have entered the Tour of the Cotswolds. A 104 miles, I think, with a bit of climbing. I'm not sure as I write whether I'll actually do it........ it depends on how I feel when I get back from France on Saturday. I'm not going to risk getting overtired at this stage of the campaign, so I'll be playing it by ear.

Thanks to JackH and Mark L for their nice and supportive responses. I wasn't fishing for compliments, and now I feel a bit like those annoying swotty girls who used to claim that 'I've done no work at all, absolutely none, zilch' before walking off with top marks in the final exams. Yeah, right.

I see my brother is getting himself fit with the purchase of a tasty Raleigh something for £20. I've told you about my ex-Marine anaesthetist colleague who did last years Etape up Alpe d'Huez on a £280 Raleigh bike? He didn't even have proper pedals, and was doing it in old denim cut-offs until two weeks before the event when his family took pity on him and bought him a pair of proper cycling shorts. Makes you think, doesn't it.

By the way, nice photo above by Chicky Babe taken at The Artigiano gig last summer. Lots of people have said nice things about my piccies. What camera do I have, they ask?
Nearly all the photos on my blog have been taken with my Sony Ericsson phone-camera K800i.