OPINION JULIE REID
Great balls of fire Julie can handle as many flaming tar barrels as the next East Devonian – but she’ll skip the funfair…
I
thought when I moved out of London that I would be struggling to find things to do with and without the kids. But East Devon really is a hive of activity. Once the Sidmouth Folk Festival is over and all the folkies have hauled their distressed patchwork arses back into their vintage T4s and got out of my parking spaces, the Red Arrows appear. The kids always want me to take them to watch but, as I am panic-stricken by anything going fast above sea level, I end up staring at the ground whilst everyone else is enjoying their performance in the sky. Even the sound of the planes triggers some kind of PTSD and, as I turn white, the kids shout out, “Please don’t throw up, Mum”, but the thought of anyone being sick makes me even more nauseous.
“I give them both £15 then scurry along to Dukes and drink as much pinot noir as possible”
Then, after the two-hour scurry to vacate the display by car dies down, it’s suddenly the Budleigh Literary Festival. This year I went to see a friend who has just published a book of short stories giving a talk about his work, being interviewed by professor Helen Taylor, who was an exceptional host, and the whole experience has made me want to go back next year. All very genteel and quiet and nothing left the ground. A few days later and my children are screaming at me to take them to the fair which rocks up for three days in September and sits outside the swimming pool. This, of course, is the worst time of year for me – loud music, high things going fast, people throwing up. So, I give them both £15 then I scurry along to Dukes in Sidmouth and drink as much pinot noir as possible, praying my children aren’t being mangled by dysfunctional machinery before I return to catch them at the snack stall carrying as many chocolate waffles as humanly possible and staring at me in a way that tries to hypnotise me into not seeing anything that is happening below their chins. That over, and the Science Festival starts. This is one of my favourites as it has lots of very intelligent people offering to teach me things about very stretchy
plastic and how many consecutive double sixes you need to throw to cause an earth tremor in San Francisco. The kids have fun, we all learn nerdy stuff, and there’s small explosions and electric shocks and no obvious health and safety. Which brings me nicely to the delicious, barbaric chaos that is the Ottery Tar Barrels. Teenagers, testosterone, alcohol and fire let loose on the general public. It seems to have no place in the sanitised, ordered world we live in but somehow still manages to get away with happening. Huge crowds squeezed into tiny dark streets, with no way of escaping, are all within inches of burning tar which comes hurtling towards them on the backs of people whose mental health is unknown. Yet hordes turn up every year to watch and partake and we all love it. OK, I take my full watering can just in case things get messy, but it has convinced me that you don’t have to be high to have fun. ■
Julie Reid is a photographer/writer and London exile who moved to Sidmouth with her two children and rock star husband. Instagram: @londondevongirl
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