It’s a tradition, or an old charter, or something, which decrees that someone has to take themselves off to Cambridge in order to queue for tickets to the Folk Festival.
So David and I flung ourselves down the A14 and went to Cambridge for the most unproductive and infuriating five hours I’ve ever experienced. However we managed to drink a fair few cups of coffee in Starbucks, and I even chanced a slice of their granola bar).
In a boredofjam first, here’s a video of the queue as we walked along it…
Did we get tix? Eventually. Literally three minutes before the hotline closed Dave managed to get through (this being after spending the day on redial duty on two mobiles, and even having to resort to buying a charger to use in the car after my battery died two-and-a-half hours in).
boredofjam* 
and then the ‘phone rang………….!
Much symph and great thanks to the two of you, for indeed t’was my turn… I am humbled by your toil and will endeavour to return the favour next year and try not to be
1. heavily pregnant
2. breastfeeding an infant
3. recovering from a wedding
for should any of these apply I may not be able to fulfil my duties once again.
I know, I’m slack!
:o)
Yes indeed, Unc turned up. Out of the blue (as it were). Or rather “out of the Super Blues” as he’d just come from the football at Portman Road (D’ya see what I did there?).
He even brought The Tronk and Adam, the former being one of my cuzzes and the latter now in debt to the tune of one Wii to another of my cousins.
Hurrah!