The next Folk on the Lawn festival will take place on 13th-15th July 2012. If you'd like to play please click here for details.

Photos and videos of the 2011 event are now available!

Credits

The crew - thanks to:

Sound and speech on River Stage:
Mike Hopkins (Mike also has a fine studio if you're interested)
Big John
Rhys Hopkins
Jon Airdrie

Sound and speech on the Mill Stage:
Paul Lewis
Nick Smith

Sound and speech on the Bar Stage:
Tim Brooke

Media recording:
Andy Ponsford
Steve Waller
Maciej Poltorak

Site preparation, maintenance and general logistics:
Sam Smith
Steve Waller
Nigel Hodge
Trish Richards

Logos, bunting, etc:
Ceinwen Airdrie

Children's area, face painting, etc:
Angela Waller
Lou
Kasia Poltorak

Programmes, wrist bands, etc:
Jan Hopkins
Val Airdrie
Ros Lewis
Jac Airdrie
Emily Whelan

... and a HUGE thanks to Shelley and the staff at Abbey Mill!!!

The Phoenix

by Peter Gowen

The dew rises from the verdant splendour of a summer morning,
Whispered words inhabit the air,
As a growing band of followers wait
For the phoenix to rise from the beauty of this ancient countryside.

Groups of excited followers gather at the ancient site
Where, for millennia, supporters have met to worship
And praise the wisdom of generations past.
They build their temples, in preparation
For their worship and everyone is excited with
The anticipation of what will happen, this day.

Eyes look 'round in wonder
Watching the creature begin to stir.
Slowly breaking free from its egg-like shackles
Rising gracefully into the air
It leaves behind it a mystical fire,
So spectacular and regal
That devotees avert their gaze
Or shield their eyes,
In fear of being struck blind by its holy flame.

It spreads its wings and climbs, regally, into the heavens.
To display its true majesty.
Each feather on each wing - a different, equally glorious gem,
Shining like multi-coloured facets
In the most spectacular of precious stones.

Casting its holy light on those who join together
Driving darkness to the fringes.
The embodiment of joy and delight to all who witness it.
Children, their eyes agog with the splendour,
Will tell their friends of the day they saw this mythical creature
Come to life.

Celebrations begin;
Dancers cavort, spinning and leaping in brightly coloured costumes
Bringing smiles to everyone who sees them.
Minstrels sing of sailors lost at sea or
Adventurers crossing foreign lands
To find their fortune in gold,
Or distant wars long past and far away.
Story tellers, following the bardic tradition, weave ancient tales of pantomime heroes and villains,
Of lovers doomed by fate to die in sad pursuit of each other
And, of course, the jester, the fool, the clown
Parades his skills of mockery, mimic, mime and mirth
And everyone feels better for it.

And when the light has died away
And time (the enemy of the phoenix)
Drags it, struggling, to the earth
It is forced to return to its subterranean resting place,
To hibernate, in preparation for
The next year where, once again,
It will rise to take its glorious place in the sun.