Summer used to be called summer, a decade or so ago. That was before festival season came along, quashing summer and any other season in its path. It’s the big boys that have taken over: Wireless, V, Bestival, ‘Glasto’, T In The Park, Coachella… What used to demonstrate a rare dedication to music or veganism has become a thoroughly commonplace affair. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Who would have thought that so many of us would have it in us to trade a glamorous Saturday night on the waterfront for one spent munching on chips in a waterlogged field? We’ve developed a weird national penchant for suffering in unison. When we suffer together, we thrive together.
But what of the original festivalers? Where are the white dreadlocks now? While some diehard Glastonbury-goers are content sticking it out with the 174,999 others, others have fallen away in dribs and drabs. Watching the BBC coverage, what used to look like a squat party now looks like an afternoon on Venice Beach – from the wellies up at least. Those leaving their Glastonbury days behind are choosing smaller festivals instead, from Free Rotation – the friends and family only electronic music festival in Wales – to Devon Yoga Festival. But those looking for a really authentic festival experience won’t stop there. Dig a little deeper into the British undergrowth and you’ll find a whole world of events that you never knew existed. Weird, indulgent and very British – and not a pair of leopard print Hunters in sight.
While not exactly alternative, Farr is still relatively unknown. The 2,000-capacity festival is close enough to London to warrant a weekend away, and with artists including Hercules & Love Affair, Andrew Weatherall, dBridge and Tom Trago, it’s worth the £100 ticket (£65 if you book early enough).
The Curious Yellow Weekend is like an illegal rave with the fun and lawlessness of illegality taken out of it. I can’t work out why people would go. Set over three days and with two stages, the festival represents an unusual combination of uplifting drum and bass and skiffle. It’s more of a party than a festival – only 500 tickets are being sold. Expect the fearful and naive and those who can’t quite justify hauling their children to a ket-filled barn in Bristol.
OK, OK, this one really isn’t a festival. It’s a club night. But it does have that true festival spirit, by which I mean there’s guaranteed to be a load of 40-year-olds off their bladdy nuts. The organisers of Weekend Rush were some of the first people to play hardcore and jungle back in the early ’90s, even being dragged off the air of their pirate radio station by the military. One of their veteran MCs, Gaffa, died recently and so the collective are holding a tribute night in an as yet undisclosed location.
It’s not enough for the smallest town in Britain, Llanwrtyd Wells, to be renowned for it’s size. No, it’s also host of the world famous Bog Snorkelling Championships. Hundreds flood to the area to snorkel through the bog. For those who don’t like to get their feet muddy, there’s also a mountain biking bog snorkelling championship. You still have to go into a 6ft-deep bog, though.
Summer Solstice is one of the better known festivals in this list, but what a festival! You get to hang out at Stonehenge, surrounded by millennia of history. To go there seems a real test of commitment. There are no drunken louts who’ve stumbled there by accident, it’s a proper old love fest. Yes, there’ll be people doing poi and, yes, probably people with guitars, too. But anyone can be forgiven in the presence of a rising sun and 4,000-year-old stones.
Made from flour, water and eggs, the Yorkshire pudding boats in the Yorkshire Pudding Boat Race are exactly that: Yorkshire puddings. Apparently, yacht varnish is applied to the exteriors to keep them from getting soggy. According to the creator, Simon Thackray, the first race happened in 1999, set to the sights and sounds of “a perfectly timed thunder storm”.
The Quest website is full of jargon you can’t understand, the surest sign of a niche festival. Anamarta, creator of the Jade Egg Holistic Practice will be holding workshops alongside the Barefoot Doctor and ‘communicator’ Tim Freke – so wild, he’s replaced the i in his name with an exclamation mark. Frekey! Legendary astrologist Jonathan Cainer is also in the mix, as is Shonaleigh, the last living drut’zyla in the world. The festival’s not short on music, either. International didgeridooist Sika will be playing live.
It’s charming that Insomnia have used “Summer is Coming” as their tagline, considering the entire festival is held inside Coventry’s Ricoh Arena. But in a way, gaming has that authenticity that a lot of other festivals can’t even imagine mustering. It’s not cool. It can’t be particularly fun unless you are personally playing – or maybe that’s a bit presumptuous, like saying music can only be enjoyed by the one holding the instrument. Either way, the main appeal of Insomnia seems to be the sense of community and acceptance. High on the billing are the “Epic Pub Quiz” a “Minecraft Play Zone” and the chance to watch your gaming heroes play live on the main stage. Zane Lowe’s going to be there, too – the hottest gaming DJ in the world right now.
The Dog Inn in Norfolk plays host to the Dwile Flonking Championships, one of the hottest tickets in the dishrag calendar. A dwile is a knitted floor cloth – you know the type, highly absorbent and with great momentum – and takes centre stage in the traditional pub sport. One team circle a member of the flonking team as he dips his dwile-tipped driveller into a bucket of beer. The participant then spins around before flinging his dwile at the dancing opposition. If he’s unlucky enough to miss – in what’s known as a swadger – he must down an ale-filled gazunder.
The stinkiest festival of the season is also the most unusually appealing. It’s got it all. Tractor safaris, a hog roast, welly wanging and a performance from The Britpop Collective, who “relive the glory days” with a mix of Paul Weller and Ocean Colour Scene. What could brie better?
Follow Amelia on Twitter @AmeliaEPhillips
Pictures: Rex
This article originally appeared on The Debrief.