The Folkie
Lady Judith and her Lair(d) harnessed up the SUV for the long weekend and the short trawl along the coast to Port Fairy, formerly known as Belfast, and home to an annual roots music festival awash with Celtic riffs and decibels. Following the ancient folk tradition of slave branding we were all shackled with a plastic armband indicating our right to enter, and re-enter, at will, or by the front gate if you prefer. (Boom-tish). Despite having not worn a wrist watch for more than three decades, I found myself constantly checking it for the time. Early habits remain imprinted long after their usefulness has been made obsolete by Steve Jobs. Since Lady Judith is living in the post-athroplastic world of kneelessness we require advance forays into the stage areas in order to acquire seating on our frowned-upon "high" chairs (read "normal" as opposed to "two inches above the dirt"). Non bottom feeders like us are relegated to the sides or rear of the ten...