Sunday, 28 March 2010
...And Possibly The Event Of TheYear
Following the disaster that was Thursday afternoon, I was looking forward to yesterday's big local event as I'd attended the first Big Green Festival in Chorlton Manchester last year and it had attracted over 4,000 on the day. Organised by Trafford Council as a green event to promote all things environmentally friendly such as wind power, bicycles, recycling, beekeeping and other funky things, this was possibly the event of the year. From an hour before it opened this outdoor festival, held in the grounds of a church was buzzing with people, and until I left at 5pm it continued to fill with wonderfully colourful alternative types, eager to enjoy the spring sunshine, handmade crafts, vegan cakes and curries and of course the real ale tent. The beer tent is a real crowd puller so I asked to be placed next to this location, and true to form the organisers put me next to the groovy guy with rave music and the kegs of ale.
It was fabulous to meet such an 'up for it' crowd of friendly people. Discussions around my table included the problems with eating just one square of chocolate, how to sheer a sheep and how to get rid of fleas. All jolly good fun and no conversations that were craft related at all. It was fantastic to see groovy grannies in their 70s and 80s with magenta, scarlet or purple hair, wild hippy skirts and hair wraps looking the way I want to as I grow old disgracefully. I feel a bright red hair dye coming on!
Cold though it was, the sun did make an appearance from time to time, but I was so cold that I joined the hour long salsa class just to thaw out, knowing full well that I would be suffering with aches and pains today. Flattered by the dance teacher's comments on my 'hip action' I am now enrolled once again in a salsa class, which is not wise for someone whose vertebra is still knitting together. So look out world, here comes Chicita again, shaking it in your face as I get to grips with those sweaty palms and dominant males without a sense of rhythm. Bailla chicos! Now you know where I got my name from. I reached a stage with salsa where I could be chucked forcefully over a man's shoulders and land gracefully on my feet, but I think the Cuban Wheel may be a safer bet for now. Watch this space for my report on the dance class.