Pentreffest 2007

[xspf]_start('Pentreffest 2007')[/xspf]

Was particularly lovely. I wasn't sure what to make of it, as previously the festival had been held in the Norwegian Church Arts Centre in Cardiff Bay, a particularly appropriate location with a good floor for dancing on and very interesting surroundings (as seen in several Doctor Who location shots). This time it was in Rudry Village Hall, just outside Caerphilly, and well away from anything like the dozens of restaurants minutes away from the Norwegian Church. It started off well, though, with a very early morning start from Paddington and a half-empty train pulling through London with the morning sun giving everything a coat of reddish-gold paint. I just sat there watching the city fall away from me as I listened to some of the most cheerful music on the planet - Cab Calloway in full-on swing mode. Got to Cardiff remarkably quickly, then to Caerphilly on a slightly delayed train and then hung around in a cold car park for twenty minutes waiting for Michael and John to pick me up. By the sound of it, it was a mercy they turned up at all, as they'd had a nightmarish journey on Friday, having to detour round rough mountain roads and at one point having to jumpstart the car by both pushing on it, and then jumping in as it began to gather speed.

On to Pentreffest! Where a Breton dance class showing us various ways of dancing the kost'ar choad was in full swing - this is a great dance, full of little skips and hops, and a funky little pause which throws the beginner but the expert relishes.

Then on to the afternoon, and singing with Louise Schultz (also in Svart Kaffe). We learnt, first a Swedish waltz (got to sing it that evening, too) and then a song used by wives to call the fishermen in from the ocean. When Louise sang it, it had a wonderful charge and alienness to it, when we sang it, it, er, didn't, but we managed to sing it nevertheless (or more-or-less), and next time I'm sure there's not another human for miles (or I'm underground, or both), I'll try it again. Really, though, I've got quite a strong voice when I let it out, and when I hit a wrong note at that volume it's really quite unfortunate. Or really quite traditional, if you think about it another way - if everybody sang in those days, there must have been some really bad singers joining in.

The concert that night was a little bit of a mixed bag to start with - Louise sang some of her self-penned songs, and though they were of course performed very well I would have preferred more of her traditional material, since it's that intensity and alienness that I like about her singing. Never mind her purity of tone - she's had a good deal of training and it shows. After her concert, we cleared the floor of chairs, and the evening really began for me; the dancing started to take shape, with first French and then Swedish music, and whirling round the floor with a series of partners, the most fun being Helen, with whom I managed to get a waltz turning anti-clockwise, something only previously achieved at Viennese balls with partners who'd learnt the step already. She said she'd just closed her eyes, and that is the greatest compliment I think you can be paid as a leader. Also got to sing the Swedish waltz we'd learnt earlier! As ever, also nice to sit and watch people dancing, Michael quietly and gently moving down the room just letting the music move him effortlessly in contrast to my own wandering mind and dancing style.

A very very cold night - slept with pyjamas and socks on inside a silk inner and my down sleeping bag, and was just about comfortable. I could feel the cold radiating off the ground if I even went near the edge of my Thermarest, and in the morning there was ice on the inside of the tent. I'm glad I was outside, though - Michael slept inside, and said it was even worse because some bright spark would get up once every couple of hours, and switch on the heaters. Which meant that every couple of hours, for an hour, the room would get reasonably warm. You'd then wake up overheated, open up the side of your sleeping bag, and go back to sleep. Two hours later, you'd wake up again, because the heaters had gone off, and you were shivering.

Walked up into the hills behind the village hall in the morning - the frost was melting under the sunlight, but the ground was damp rather than muddy, and going through the wood and up the hill was merely a damp experience rather than the dirty one it must be for a good part of the year. It was a particularly beautiful morning, cold and clear, and so still that when I stood and closed my eyes I could hear the sheep cropping the grass in the field fifty metres away. The air was full of birdsong, and I sang myself when I got up to a flat expanse of bracken (I found out later that I was probably overheard back in the village hall, so it must have been pretty loud), and again just walking along the brow of a hill with the sound of the M4 growing in the distance, and a 200 degree view of hills stretching out into the distance beyond Caerphilly. Back to the village hall, passing a cairn made of bricks and bits of concrete (well, this is South Wales, home of industry!), and several cups of tea and coffee, waiting and chatting with Michael, Helen and Peter waiting for everyone else to wake up. Though not really minding if they did, as it was a very interesting chat - I've always liked people who talk a good deal, if they're interesting and don't stop you butting in if you have a point to make.

Right! More dancing. This time, on anything we found tricky about Swedish dances by Pat Lindop, and a very useful tutorial on basic polska - I hadn't realised that the whole thing swings much better if the man and woman are doing different steps.


Louise playing the fiddle

After lunch was lovely, with first of all Annette, Louise and Jon playing, and then the three nyckelharpas of Tania, Chris and Carol joining in. I had a real dancer epiphany moment when Jon joined in a hottis with Louise, and did almost no variations - the music was just itself, and didn't require them.


Us dancing round the field (and getting called in by Louise's cow-calling song)

The drive back to London with Tania and Chris was long, but I was useful - I'd brought my little MP3 transmitter, and so we could listen to Chris' CDs through the car radio.