Bluesfest: Glamping versus camping
THEY drove up on motorbikes, in station wagons and luxury campervans, pitched single tents, tipis, and marquees big enough to hold a wedding.
Their bedding ranged from a swag that's seen a dozen B&S balls to Egyptian cotton fine enough to make a Pharaoh weep.
Cooking facilities included a tiny hiking stove with a billy to kitchens in vans suitable for Masterchef epsiodes and a full-blown barbecue big enough to feed a rugby team.
But when it comes down to enjoying the music, talking about the artists from headline acts down the bill, jostling for coffees, chai and cookies, it's not how posh or poor your camp site may be, it's all about getting together to enjoy the remarkable festival which is Bluesfest.
On Thursday the wonderfully diverse crowd which Bluesfest attracts rolled in to find their designated camp site, unfurl their tent, unpack the chairs and get ready to enjoy the Easter weekend.
At the end of the day, all the patrons really care about is their musical heroes, the opportunity to enjoy seeing live someone whose records and CDs they have been collecting, loving and playing for years.
Bluesfest is all about the "I was there" experience.
At the end of the day as long as you can find your camping spot, you're as happy as a lark.
Because the person with the smallest tent at Bluesfest is a king, compared to the richest person who did not attend.
It's that's kind of festival.