Well, here we are again, heading into a New Year. Here in Britain, we've survived the Olympics, a rain-soaked Autumn and the Mayan end of the world. All in all, quite a successful year.
I've not blogged much lately - no real excuse, except for the fact that I've been doing a lot of other writing lately, and having a lot of fun doing so!
Some exciting news that I wanted to share with you; A sequel to Fall From Grace (published in October 2011 by Inspired Quill) is in the pipeline - and due to be published in August 2013! You heard it here, folks - Leap of Faith is coming out soon, and I am incredibly excited by it!
It's an interesting process, creating a sequel; when you've got well-established characters, you have to make sure you're true to what you've already created, whilst making the storyline interesting enough for 90,000 words. No pressure ...!
I'm currently waiting for the manuscript to be returned from Inspired Quill's grip, where an editor is wielding his red pen over my work. Not that I'm precious about it. Of course I'm not. Perish the thought.
Still I'm due to get it back soon, then I start work on it - and I must stick to the deadline if we're going to hit our August deadline. What I'm working on now, however, is equally exciting; the cover art. I'm not an artist - I can't even draw stickmen very well - but I'm trying to create an image in my head ... and then seeing if I can describe it to the designer.
I'm enjoying the development of the sequel; having spoken to Sara from IQ (The Boss Lady), we're both going full steam ahead in the new year with publicity, marketing and all the other sorts of things books need in order to thrive - and having a lot of fun whilst we do it.
Well, I'm signing off now - both for this post and this blog. Before you think I've gone mad, fear not; I've just moving over to my website, www.matthewmunson.co.uk, and will be blogging from there instead. Come say hello and follow me there!
Thursday, 27 December 2012
Thursday, 25 October 2012
Don't You Just Hate X-Rays?
Have you ever
experienced a moment that totally transforms your perspective on something? I
did recently – and whilst I’m mostly writing this just to get my thoughts down
on paper (as it were), I thought I’d still share it!
As I’ve mentioned, I
have dyspraxia, which is described as a “neurological disorder, beginning in
childhood, that can affect planning of movements and coordination as a result
of brain messages not being accurately transmitted to the body.” Fancy
description, huh? To be fair, I borrowed it from this website - http://alifewithdyspraxia.webs.com/whatisdyspraxia.htm
- and it’s as good a description as any. It certainly describes my awkward
gait!
However, there was more
to it than that; I wrote some months ago about the on-going pain I’ve got in my
lower back, hips, knees and feet. I’ve had pains there since I was a child;
being born with inward-turning feet, a consultant at the hospital when I was a
few months old said that I had awkwardly-placed hips, which would straighten
with time and my walking would improve.
This was the early 80’s,
and dyspraxia wasn’t well-known back then – at least, not in my corner of the
world, and physiotherapy wasn’t an option. So, I’ve grown up with an awkward
gait and painful hips and knees; please don’t misunderstand me, however, I’m not
saying this to whinge. That’s just the way it’s been – and certainly, the
positive in my life has far outweighed any of these negatives.
However, I recently did
a marathon (a walking marathon, I
should say – I’m not silly enough to run it!), and it made me aware that I was
31 years old, but immediately after I’d finished, was walking around like a man
triple my age. “Something’s not quite right,” I told myself.
I was sent up the
hospital for a x-ray – which is never the most elegant of procedures, let’s be
honest. When I’m being sent for scans of my hips, and they’re worried my
trouser zip and belt buckle is going to interfere with the scan … well, my
trousers weren’t going to protect my dignity for very long. So
there I was, laying on a bed and being scanned by a bloody great big machine.
Events like that ensure that I will never develop a huge ego.
So, back to the GP I
went … and there I found out something that threw me. It turns out that what I
thought was a problem with my hips – thus causing my feet to turn inwards – was
actually a problem with my back. Vertebrae L4 and L3, in case you particularly
wanted to know.
It doesn’t mean anything to me – except that
it’s in my lower back. Essentially, these two vertebrae “knock” against each
other, when they should be a reasonable distance apart, and that impact causes
knock-on effects in my hips and knees. It turns out that the problems with my
feet are pretty much coincidental. Go figure.
So, what’s the next
step? Physiotherapy. I’m more prone to arthritis and other lower-limb problems,
so if I can postpone any issues through physio, then my philosophy is “Let’s do
it.” The next few months will
certainly be … interesting.
Saturday, 6 October 2012
Dyspraxia, ASD's & Relationships
Dyspraxia - well, all conditions along that catch-all title of Autistic
Spectrum Disorder - can be a confusing thing to the untrained eye. I'm not an
expert by qualification, but I've lived with the condition all my life, so I do consider
myself to be an expert by experience, and I wanted to talk about one particular
aspect today; relationships.
First things first; the autistic spectrum is just that, a spectrum of disorder. How one person experiences it might well be different from the next person, who might be me. I can only talk about ASD's from personal experience, as well about about people who have kindly shared their own experiences with me. I write about dyspraxia and ASD's because it's of interest to me, and I've had some wonderful feedback that inspires me to keep writing.
Now that the clarifications are out of the way, I'll move onto the topic of the day; ASD's and relationships. I mean relationships of all kinds, but people with ASD's can have issues with different sorts, depending on their own particular issues and place on the spectrum.
Being with people can often be overwhelming, and a "recharge" is often needed. That can often be true with me; I sometimes need some time away just to stop my brain getting overwhelmed; it’s difficult to explain, but it’s as if my brain gets overwhelmed with information and stimuli quicker than a neutrotypical person’s brain (by neurotypical, I mean anyone who doesn’t have an ASD, which is the majority of the population), and I need additional time to process it all.
This doesn’t mean that it's not frustrating at times; you can’t help it, but certainly I do wish that my brain would occasionally work quicker, or wouldn’t get overloaded at times. But such is life, and you accept the downs with the ups; as I wrote in a previous post, would I accept a cure to dyspraxia if it was freely available? No, as I feel the neurological side of my condition has made me a lot more creative and conscious (bizarrely) of what other people think than if I had been neurotypical.
I’m fortunate; I have an excellent family, and friends who accept me as me – which is rather spiffing – but it’s a worry when you meet new people. Do you tell them about your condition, or do you not? Is it any of their business, or will it help them understand you? If anyone’s found a conclusive answer on those questions, let me know, would you?
Romantic relationships can be difficult too. I’m single right now, and yes – in a way, it’s easier being single. But it's also harder, because you can forget how to let your guard down when someone special does come along. Something I did when I was younger is put a barrier up, which mean you were protected against any of the difficulties when a potential or actual relationship didn't work out.Not perhaps the right answer, but one that got me through a lot of my 20’s; and perhaps left some people with more questions than answers.
I’ve now entered my 30’s (and often have to tick the “30 – 40” box on questionnaires now, which has changed my perspective on what “middle age” actually means), and I’ve mellowed a fair amount from where I was ten years ago; I’m more comfortable in my own skin, and with my condition no longer in control of me. It doesn’t rule my life anymore and yes, I write about it a fair amount, but for two reasons; it’s quite cathartic in a way, and if in some small way it can help others, then all well and good.
Relationships can be hard work even without an ASD to factor in, but I think that any couple can work round anything if the desire to is strong enough. It’s just taken me a long time to realise that - and that some people will want to be let in; one good thing though is that the dating game is, I think, easier in your thirties than in your twenties – at least, that’s my view so far! Ask me again in a year – we’ll see how I feel then!
First things first; the autistic spectrum is just that, a spectrum of disorder. How one person experiences it might well be different from the next person, who might be me. I can only talk about ASD's from personal experience, as well about about people who have kindly shared their own experiences with me. I write about dyspraxia and ASD's because it's of interest to me, and I've had some wonderful feedback that inspires me to keep writing.
Now that the clarifications are out of the way, I'll move onto the topic of the day; ASD's and relationships. I mean relationships of all kinds, but people with ASD's can have issues with different sorts, depending on their own particular issues and place on the spectrum.
Being with people can often be overwhelming, and a "recharge" is often needed. That can often be true with me; I sometimes need some time away just to stop my brain getting overwhelmed; it’s difficult to explain, but it’s as if my brain gets overwhelmed with information and stimuli quicker than a neutrotypical person’s brain (by neurotypical, I mean anyone who doesn’t have an ASD, which is the majority of the population), and I need additional time to process it all.
This doesn’t mean that it's not frustrating at times; you can’t help it, but certainly I do wish that my brain would occasionally work quicker, or wouldn’t get overloaded at times. But such is life, and you accept the downs with the ups; as I wrote in a previous post, would I accept a cure to dyspraxia if it was freely available? No, as I feel the neurological side of my condition has made me a lot more creative and conscious (bizarrely) of what other people think than if I had been neurotypical.
I’m fortunate; I have an excellent family, and friends who accept me as me – which is rather spiffing – but it’s a worry when you meet new people. Do you tell them about your condition, or do you not? Is it any of their business, or will it help them understand you? If anyone’s found a conclusive answer on those questions, let me know, would you?
Romantic relationships can be difficult too. I’m single right now, and yes – in a way, it’s easier being single. But it's also harder, because you can forget how to let your guard down when someone special does come along. Something I did when I was younger is put a barrier up, which mean you were protected against any of the difficulties when a potential or actual relationship didn't work out.Not perhaps the right answer, but one that got me through a lot of my 20’s; and perhaps left some people with more questions than answers.
I’ve now entered my 30’s (and often have to tick the “30 – 40” box on questionnaires now, which has changed my perspective on what “middle age” actually means), and I’ve mellowed a fair amount from where I was ten years ago; I’m more comfortable in my own skin, and with my condition no longer in control of me. It doesn’t rule my life anymore and yes, I write about it a fair amount, but for two reasons; it’s quite cathartic in a way, and if in some small way it can help others, then all well and good.
Relationships can be hard work even without an ASD to factor in, but I think that any couple can work round anything if the desire to is strong enough. It’s just taken me a long time to realise that - and that some people will want to be let in; one good thing though is that the dating game is, I think, easier in your thirties than in your twenties – at least, that’s my view so far! Ask me again in a year – we’ll see how I feel then!
Wednesday, 3 October 2012
A Crazy Plan ...
Back in early August 2012, I did something very silly. I signed up to a marathon. A full, 26.2 mile marathon.
Yes, a marathon - but a walking marathon. Running is something I simply will not do - walking, however ... well, I do a lot of that anyway, so it didn't seem too much of an issue.
I can be a bit naive at times.
I'd done a shorter walk (about 3 miles) for a hospice back in the summer, and a friend then recommended this ... ahem, slightly longer walk. Originally, I'd planned to do the half-marathon (still a very respectable 13.1 miles) ... but then a couple of friends got on board and convinced me to book for the full marathon instead. I should say, it was being organised by Cancer Research UK, so for a very good cause ... but still, 26.2 miles?!
I didn't honestly think I would be able to do it, I truly didn't. My walking gait isn't brilliant at the best of times; having got hips that are a bit out of whack and a lot of discomfort in my legs and feet. You'll see why I doubted myself.
My teammates (who I will now dub my "torturers" - only kidding!) and I followed an official 8-week training programme, with upwards of 3 or 4 walks of varying length - including a 6-hour, 18-mile walk a few weeks before. I emerged from that one incredibly sore and stiff - and even more worried that I wouldn't make it.
Then - the night arrived (oh yes, it was overnight, by the way - on a Saturday night, going round Central London. Did I mention it was 26.2 miles? It's worth mentioning again, don't you think?) - it arrived far too quickly for my liking, and there I was, stood by Battersea Power Station in the dark, waiting to cross the starting line. My right foot and knee were throbbing (a surprisingly common occurrence, sadly), and all I could think was "Where's the first pit-stop ... and will there be loos there?" I'm a martyr to the loo!
The next thing I knew, we were 13 miles in and had just walked past 10 Downing Street. More than just my right knee ached now, but something else was happening - a determination to finish that I hadn't entirely expected. I'd felt strangely sick at 4 miles in, but that had gone quickly and I'd fallen into a good pattern of walking - and the adrenaline really did kick in. As our little team continued on our journey, the ache in my legs - which I get a lot of the time - suddenly didn't seem to matter anymore, and when I hit 18 miles (the longest stretch I'd ever walked in one continuous go before), I knew that I had to finish. Something inside of my head wasn't going to let me give me before the finish - I think my mother would call it stubbornness, and she's not far wrong.
When my teammates and I walked over that finish line together, it was an immense feeling - I wish I could describe the sense of achievement, but I can't. Despite being a lover of words, I can't find the right ones - as much as it pains me to admit! It was a strange thing, watching the sun rise over London, having seen so many of the famous London landmarks, from Westminster to Trafalgar Square to Aldgate to Baker Street to Hyde Park to Buckingham Palace to ... well, you get the picture.
Doing the Shine Marathon for Cancer Research has been one of the highlights of this year (I'm very fortunate that there's been a few) - and the soreness afterwards, and the grumbling from my right leg, has been very worth it. So much so, that I've already registered my interest in next year's Shine Marathon, with my teammates onboard, but we welcome anyone else who wants to join us. Trust me, you'll love it - and the sense of pride in knowing what you've done it for is incredible.
Yes, a marathon - but a walking marathon. Running is something I simply will not do - walking, however ... well, I do a lot of that anyway, so it didn't seem too much of an issue.
I can be a bit naive at times.
I'd done a shorter walk (about 3 miles) for a hospice back in the summer, and a friend then recommended this ... ahem, slightly longer walk. Originally, I'd planned to do the half-marathon (still a very respectable 13.1 miles) ... but then a couple of friends got on board and convinced me to book for the full marathon instead. I should say, it was being organised by Cancer Research UK, so for a very good cause ... but still, 26.2 miles?!
I didn't honestly think I would be able to do it, I truly didn't. My walking gait isn't brilliant at the best of times; having got hips that are a bit out of whack and a lot of discomfort in my legs and feet. You'll see why I doubted myself.
My teammates (who I will now dub my "torturers" - only kidding!) and I followed an official 8-week training programme, with upwards of 3 or 4 walks of varying length - including a 6-hour, 18-mile walk a few weeks before. I emerged from that one incredibly sore and stiff - and even more worried that I wouldn't make it.
Then - the night arrived (oh yes, it was overnight, by the way - on a Saturday night, going round Central London. Did I mention it was 26.2 miles? It's worth mentioning again, don't you think?) - it arrived far too quickly for my liking, and there I was, stood by Battersea Power Station in the dark, waiting to cross the starting line. My right foot and knee were throbbing (a surprisingly common occurrence, sadly), and all I could think was "Where's the first pit-stop ... and will there be loos there?" I'm a martyr to the loo!
The next thing I knew, we were 13 miles in and had just walked past 10 Downing Street. More than just my right knee ached now, but something else was happening - a determination to finish that I hadn't entirely expected. I'd felt strangely sick at 4 miles in, but that had gone quickly and I'd fallen into a good pattern of walking - and the adrenaline really did kick in. As our little team continued on our journey, the ache in my legs - which I get a lot of the time - suddenly didn't seem to matter anymore, and when I hit 18 miles (the longest stretch I'd ever walked in one continuous go before), I knew that I had to finish. Something inside of my head wasn't going to let me give me before the finish - I think my mother would call it stubbornness, and she's not far wrong.
When my teammates and I walked over that finish line together, it was an immense feeling - I wish I could describe the sense of achievement, but I can't. Despite being a lover of words, I can't find the right ones - as much as it pains me to admit! It was a strange thing, watching the sun rise over London, having seen so many of the famous London landmarks, from Westminster to Trafalgar Square to Aldgate to Baker Street to Hyde Park to Buckingham Palace to ... well, you get the picture.
Wednesday, 26 September 2012
An Author Talks!
I recently found myself in Ashford, feeling suitably terrified. Not for any nasty reason, but because I was about to give a talk - and I had no idea how many people were going to turn up and listen to me!
Let me rewind a bit. I'm a big fan of libraries - my parents took me to our local library when I was a kid, and it really instilled in me my love of reading, so I will defend them ... well, perhaps not to the death per se, but you get the idea.
I live in Kent, and a lot of libraries are undergoing refits at the moment, which is brilliant in what is otherwise a time of austerity; libraries should be a multi-functional space at the heart of a community, and have had to evolve out of necessity - but seeing investment in the buildings and stock is brilliant. Whether they end up sharing spaces (like Margate and Ashford do in Gateways, or Dover does in the Discovery Centre), or whether they get an overhaul and host other agencies (like in Broadstairs and Ramsgate), if it sustains and enhances their use, then I'm a fan.
I was contacted recently by one of the Librarians at Ashford (lovely woman, who I won't name only because I've not sought her permission to do so - suffice to say, she is lovely!), who wondered if I would like to come and give a talk at the library.
The time it took for me to say yes could be measured in microseconds.
So, on a recent Tuesday in September 2012, I zoomed over to Ashford on the high speed train and, after a stroll round Ashford town centre and (quite randomly) getting a mobile phone upgrade to something very wizzy and far above my ability to use, I found myself in the Everest Inn restaurant.
Sorry, what? I've gone off on a tangent, you say? Well, yes, but I must have a pit stop and mention this restaurant - its food is amazing. A few of us met up before the talk - on the basis of a recommendation from one of the group, and I'm glad we went with it, because it was lovely. It's all Indian and Nepalese food - and I guarantee you will find something you like. When I get nervous, I seem to lose my sense of taste - but it quickly came back with my meal, as the flavours were brilliant, and the staff were lovely and didn't seem to mind me half-spilling my rice over their lovely, crisp tablecloths one jot. If you're ever in Ashford, go to the Everest Inn - you simply must.
Anyhow, our posse then went onto the library, which is nestled in Ashford Gateway Plus. Well, I say "nestled", but the Gateway is a three-storey building, and it's rather lovely. I was really glad to have some friends come along to the talk; for me, giving these talks has an "unknown factor" in terms of audience size, but I knew that - at the very least - I could chat away to my friends for an hour or so.
Thankfully, about 15 people turned up in the end; which, for a comparatively unknown author, was quite a delight, and I was thrilled to meet some new people, as well as some I recognised from other events - and the nerves very quickly disappeared. I was able to talk for 45 minutes without seemingly losing anyone's attention - or, if I did, they were polite enough to hide it! I spoke about my experiences with the publishing world so far, and what I'd learnt over the last few years. I could have gone on for a lot longer ...
So - thank you my friends for their support (and my Royal friend who couldn't make it - there'll be a next time, I hope!), to the staff and other attendees who came and made me feel so welcome, and thanks to Ashford Library and Gateway for having me. It was a hoot - I hope I get to come back at some point.
Now to prepare for my next talk - at Broadstairs Library, in a few short weeks. Keep your eyes peeled!
Let me rewind a bit. I'm a big fan of libraries - my parents took me to our local library when I was a kid, and it really instilled in me my love of reading, so I will defend them ... well, perhaps not to the death per se, but you get the idea.
I live in Kent, and a lot of libraries are undergoing refits at the moment, which is brilliant in what is otherwise a time of austerity; libraries should be a multi-functional space at the heart of a community, and have had to evolve out of necessity - but seeing investment in the buildings and stock is brilliant. Whether they end up sharing spaces (like Margate and Ashford do in Gateways, or Dover does in the Discovery Centre), or whether they get an overhaul and host other agencies (like in Broadstairs and Ramsgate), if it sustains and enhances their use, then I'm a fan.
I was contacted recently by one of the Librarians at Ashford (lovely woman, who I won't name only because I've not sought her permission to do so - suffice to say, she is lovely!), who wondered if I would like to come and give a talk at the library.
The time it took for me to say yes could be measured in microseconds.
So, on a recent Tuesday in September 2012, I zoomed over to Ashford on the high speed train and, after a stroll round Ashford town centre and (quite randomly) getting a mobile phone upgrade to something very wizzy and far above my ability to use, I found myself in the Everest Inn restaurant.
Sorry, what? I've gone off on a tangent, you say? Well, yes, but I must have a pit stop and mention this restaurant - its food is amazing. A few of us met up before the talk - on the basis of a recommendation from one of the group, and I'm glad we went with it, because it was lovely. It's all Indian and Nepalese food - and I guarantee you will find something you like. When I get nervous, I seem to lose my sense of taste - but it quickly came back with my meal, as the flavours were brilliant, and the staff were lovely and didn't seem to mind me half-spilling my rice over their lovely, crisp tablecloths one jot. If you're ever in Ashford, go to the Everest Inn - you simply must.
Anyhow, our posse then went onto the library, which is nestled in Ashford Gateway Plus. Well, I say "nestled", but the Gateway is a three-storey building, and it's rather lovely. I was really glad to have some friends come along to the talk; for me, giving these talks has an "unknown factor" in terms of audience size, but I knew that - at the very least - I could chat away to my friends for an hour or so.
Thankfully, about 15 people turned up in the end; which, for a comparatively unknown author, was quite a delight, and I was thrilled to meet some new people, as well as some I recognised from other events - and the nerves very quickly disappeared. I was able to talk for 45 minutes without seemingly losing anyone's attention - or, if I did, they were polite enough to hide it! I spoke about my experiences with the publishing world so far, and what I'd learnt over the last few years. I could have gone on for a lot longer ...
So - thank you my friends for their support (and my Royal friend who couldn't make it - there'll be a next time, I hope!), to the staff and other attendees who came and made me feel so welcome, and thanks to Ashford Library and Gateway for having me. It was a hoot - I hope I get to come back at some point.
Now to prepare for my next talk - at Broadstairs Library, in a few short weeks. Keep your eyes peeled!
Saturday, 15 September 2012
The Tales of a Sequel
Have you heard of the Curse of the Sequel? It's a popular theory that it's rare to find a sequel as good as its original. Having read some sequels - and watched some sequel films - I'd accept that axiom as sometimes true.
By the way, did I mention that my sequel to Fall From Grace, my debut novel, has been accepted by Inspired Quill publishing house.
See how I managed to link the two there?
I've been very fortunate to have some good feedback so far about Fall From Grace - don't get me wrong, I'll willingly accept constructive criticism as well - and so, as you imagine, I'm desperately keen to avoid the Curse of the Sequel.
So, a plan has been hatched; thankfully, I've got an excellent publisher (Inspired Quill - have I mentioned them before?), and Sara (publisher-in-chief) and I had a recent conflab to create it. The sequel will go through a couple of edits with Peter Stewart, the rather splendid editor who worked on FFG, but before there, I'll be working on a "soft" edit.
Don't worry, I haven't gone mad.
I've done one edit already, just for tone and to weed out some dead wood that you don't always see when you're writing the very first draft, and now this "soft" edit will involve me reading it out loud. To myself.
Okay, that sounds a little mad.
Honest, it's a good technique. I did the same with FFG; it's an excellent way of seeing how things flow, if words and sentences make sense and don't seem too stilted or formal - or informal in places. To make sure I've stayed faithful to the first book, I'm currently re-reading FFG as well (out loud) to make sure the flow stays the same between both books.
I'm looking forward to getting feedback from the sequel - from both IQ and a wider readership - but to get it all as positive as possible, a lot of work needs to be done first. I think I'm up to the challenge - I managed it with FFG with no tendency towards a breakdown, so here's hoping for book 2!
By the way, did I mention that my sequel to Fall From Grace, my debut novel, has been accepted by Inspired Quill publishing house.
See how I managed to link the two there?
I've been very fortunate to have some good feedback so far about Fall From Grace - don't get me wrong, I'll willingly accept constructive criticism as well - and so, as you imagine, I'm desperately keen to avoid the Curse of the Sequel.
So, a plan has been hatched; thankfully, I've got an excellent publisher (Inspired Quill - have I mentioned them before?), and Sara (publisher-in-chief) and I had a recent conflab to create it. The sequel will go through a couple of edits with Peter Stewart, the rather splendid editor who worked on FFG, but before there, I'll be working on a "soft" edit.
Don't worry, I haven't gone mad.
I've done one edit already, just for tone and to weed out some dead wood that you don't always see when you're writing the very first draft, and now this "soft" edit will involve me reading it out loud. To myself.
Okay, that sounds a little mad.
Honest, it's a good technique. I did the same with FFG; it's an excellent way of seeing how things flow, if words and sentences make sense and don't seem too stilted or formal - or informal in places. To make sure I've stayed faithful to the first book, I'm currently re-reading FFG as well (out loud) to make sure the flow stays the same between both books.
I'm looking forward to getting feedback from the sequel - from both IQ and a wider readership - but to get it all as positive as possible, a lot of work needs to be done first. I think I'm up to the challenge - I managed it with FFG with no tendency towards a breakdown, so here's hoping for book 2!
Sunday, 2 September 2012
Smugglers Festival 2012
The south-east of England has many hidden gems; decent weather (more often than Scotland, anyway), beautiful scenery and countryside - and a indie music scene that's the equal, if not superior, than a lot of the indie scenes out there.
Smugglers Records is based in Kent, and run by local musicians and music lovers. In 2011, they put on a music festival - and this year, in 2012, version 2.0 of the festival ran from 31st August to 2nd September in deepest ... Ah, you see, I can't actually tell you where it is.
I'm not having a funny five minutes, I promise you, but I simply can't tell you. The festival's creators value the secrecy involved - even when you order your tickets, you don't find out the exact location until 24 hours in advance through email, and who am I to argue? They feel that, if they were to get swamped by large numbers of visitors, the special vibe would disappear - and I can't entirely disagree. To be fair, I'm not sure I could direct you there anyway - my friend drove, and we spent most of the journey in deep conversation.
My friends I went with had been there the previous year, at the festival's debut, and I was filled in on what she saw as the successes and ... learning experiences, as we'll call them. I wasn't there, so I'll just focus on this year and how it's expanded and adapted.
Located in a beautiful wood, I have to say that it looked beautiful as we approached in the festival minibus - whilst not as glamorous as it sounds, the minibus ran every ten minutes and the drivers were cheery, so that was all that mattered. I felt even happier when we got inside the festival site, because it was as beautiful on the inside as it was from the outside.
The relaxed, chilled-out vibe rolls over you as soon as you step onto the site and speak to the front office staff, and then you're in - and my word, it's worth waiting for. A proper wood, four or five of the clearings were taken over by the festival; yet it was done respectfully and you felt like you were still part of nature.
The main "corridor" leading down to the main stage, smaller stage and bar in the primary area was lovely; food stalls (all run by friends and family of the organisers, and deserving of high credit), a small copse where (randomly but endearingly) a meeting point was formed that offered maths lessons, talks and informal music sessions and a badminton area, as well as some other stalls that made for a really creative and relaxed vibe.
Separate copses held smaller stages, a constantly-lit fire and a children's area (which included a cinema screen and kid's films) - which was a brilliant concept, and the adults running it had such a positive attitude that it almost rubbed off on me (being a natural-born cynic, that's saying something). An installation art exhibit lined the route to the furthest stage and, whilst it was a little off the wall for my slightly more traditional tastes, it was generating a lot of interest and discussion, which is what art's about.
I was saddened to have missed a couple of singers that I hold in great esteem, Sherrie Tappenden and Will Varley, and heard excellent feedback about both of them that I couldn't help be envious of those who saw them. There will be other times, however.
I was glad to catch The Fruitgroup? (yes, the question mark should be there); this was the third time I'd heard them play at different venues, and their performance was excellent, with everyone up dancing - surely the sign of a successful act!
I caught a little of Melodica, Melody and Me, whose tunes are (I apologise in advance) music to my ears; our group was heading to another band, so we couldn't stop, but I hope to catch them again soon.
Rae were very good, with Leonie Evans' beautiful vocals really carrying across the audience at the main stage; I was sad to not hear more of her, but her 40 minutes on stage were well worth listening to.
I can't finish without mentioning a band that featured on the main stage in the evening - Cocos Lovers. Playing with violins, guitars, a flute, drums and a saw, it's brilliantly eclectic and passionate band; I love watching them, and clearly so do a lot of other people, because the main tent was packed - so much so, I was having to loiter out on the periphery. I could still hear them, however, so that's all that matters. Brilliant band - do get to see them.
I could go on about this festival - brilliant food, a relaxed, chilled-out vibe, a good sense of humour and child-friendly - but all I can suggest is that you get tickets for 2013. If you can - there's a limited number, so it's first-come, first-served. I just hope I'm one of the "first-served".
Smugglers Records is based in Kent, and run by local musicians and music lovers. In 2011, they put on a music festival - and this year, in 2012, version 2.0 of the festival ran from 31st August to 2nd September in deepest ... Ah, you see, I can't actually tell you where it is.
I'm not having a funny five minutes, I promise you, but I simply can't tell you. The festival's creators value the secrecy involved - even when you order your tickets, you don't find out the exact location until 24 hours in advance through email, and who am I to argue? They feel that, if they were to get swamped by large numbers of visitors, the special vibe would disappear - and I can't entirely disagree. To be fair, I'm not sure I could direct you there anyway - my friend drove, and we spent most of the journey in deep conversation.
My friends I went with had been there the previous year, at the festival's debut, and I was filled in on what she saw as the successes and ... learning experiences, as we'll call them. I wasn't there, so I'll just focus on this year and how it's expanded and adapted.
Located in a beautiful wood, I have to say that it looked beautiful as we approached in the festival minibus - whilst not as glamorous as it sounds, the minibus ran every ten minutes and the drivers were cheery, so that was all that mattered. I felt even happier when we got inside the festival site, because it was as beautiful on the inside as it was from the outside.
The relaxed, chilled-out vibe rolls over you as soon as you step onto the site and speak to the front office staff, and then you're in - and my word, it's worth waiting for. A proper wood, four or five of the clearings were taken over by the festival; yet it was done respectfully and you felt like you were still part of nature.
The main "corridor" leading down to the main stage, smaller stage and bar in the primary area was lovely; food stalls (all run by friends and family of the organisers, and deserving of high credit), a small copse where (randomly but endearingly) a meeting point was formed that offered maths lessons, talks and informal music sessions and a badminton area, as well as some other stalls that made for a really creative and relaxed vibe.
Separate copses held smaller stages, a constantly-lit fire and a children's area (which included a cinema screen and kid's films) - which was a brilliant concept, and the adults running it had such a positive attitude that it almost rubbed off on me (being a natural-born cynic, that's saying something). An installation art exhibit lined the route to the furthest stage and, whilst it was a little off the wall for my slightly more traditional tastes, it was generating a lot of interest and discussion, which is what art's about.
I was saddened to have missed a couple of singers that I hold in great esteem, Sherrie Tappenden and Will Varley, and heard excellent feedback about both of them that I couldn't help be envious of those who saw them. There will be other times, however.
I was glad to catch The Fruitgroup? (yes, the question mark should be there); this was the third time I'd heard them play at different venues, and their performance was excellent, with everyone up dancing - surely the sign of a successful act!
I caught a little of Melodica, Melody and Me, whose tunes are (I apologise in advance) music to my ears; our group was heading to another band, so we couldn't stop, but I hope to catch them again soon.
Rae were very good, with Leonie Evans' beautiful vocals really carrying across the audience at the main stage; I was sad to not hear more of her, but her 40 minutes on stage were well worth listening to.
I can't finish without mentioning a band that featured on the main stage in the evening - Cocos Lovers. Playing with violins, guitars, a flute, drums and a saw, it's brilliantly eclectic and passionate band; I love watching them, and clearly so do a lot of other people, because the main tent was packed - so much so, I was having to loiter out on the periphery. I could still hear them, however, so that's all that matters. Brilliant band - do get to see them.
I could go on about this festival - brilliant food, a relaxed, chilled-out vibe, a good sense of humour and child-friendly - but all I can suggest is that you get tickets for 2013. If you can - there's a limited number, so it's first-come, first-served. I just hope I'm one of the "first-served".
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