As our latest micro-voyage drew to a close the annual Cropredy Fairport Convention was about to get under way. Boats crowded the moorings both above and below Cropredy Lock. There were people lazing on the village green, full pub beer gardens, and an air of excitement around the village. Though the festival was still a couple of days away when we arrived, car and vans carrying campers lined the country roads to the campsites, whilst optimistic stall-holders were already in place selling festivalisms to willing punters.

The sun shone hot.

Despite not being able to attend the festival ourselves this year, we got caught up in the general mood, and in our own way felt as if we really were, at last, on holiday too.

It was all happening around the Wharf; boats winding, boats trying to moor, boats passing, and boats lining up to use the sanitary station and waterpoint… A gongozzlers delight as boats tied themselves in knots!
Woolly whatsits and tie-dyed this-&-thats, hats galore, beads and bags; the bread-&-butter of festivals up and down the country…
The village moorings had long since been snaffled up by festival regulars; leaving the hire boats to knock and bash their way through, and late-comers to face the reality of mooring a good walk away from the centre of festival action… Perhaps that would prove to be no bad thing as the towpaths inevitably become utterly swamped with people during festival days…

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