In spite of all the hard work that went into publicising the event, it was only our local papers, The Aldershot News and Farnham Herald, that gave it any significant coverage. The local freebie paper, The Star, gave it nothing more than a gig guide listing. Having said that, at least they included the 2 p.m. start time, something neither the NME or Melody Maker managed. So all we could do now was wait. Actually, that wasn't all we could do, we had to get to the site the day beforehand and build the performance area. Oh yeah, and dig a latrine for the men. Luckily, Shona Moments' mum was involved with the Girl Guides and had been able to borrow a couple of chemical toilet booths for the ladies, but we weren't so fortunate with the gents. That required a few of us with shovels, digging a narrow trench, then erecting a piece of scrap corrugated metal at one edge as a makeshift urinal. It was basically all hands on deck for the Saturday morning and we had a great turnout, including the members of

our two newest recruited bands, The Visionaries and Greed, both playing as guests at rather short notice, so short for the latter that they hadn't even appeared in the listings. The fact that Greed were there willing to pick up shovels and dig toilets impressed us all the most, they were much better known than any of us and already regulars on the London circuit. That's not to say there weren't any strutting prima donna's who thought they could help out for half an hour, then bugger off, put their feet up and come back tomorrow when they were due on stage. They were duly reminded (!) that the rest of us were not their personal servants and thus decided to stay and help out after all. 

No names, of course, it was a long time ago and we were all very much younger. Plus the fact I can also recall there were several complaints about my own behaviour! So, people who live in glass houses, as they say. Back to the job at hand; the Highland Farm site was along the Old Guildford Road just outside of Frimley Green, a village generally better known for darts. The road started with tarmac, but descended to a track further on, thankfully with adequate road access to the site itself, a good size opening in an otherwise heavily wooded area. For the performance area, we'd selected a suitable recess at one edge of the treeline, which would mean the speaker stacks facing away from populated areas, sparing the local civilians from the ear-battering the rabbits on Pirbright Common were in for. We made good use of the trees, lashing the

tarpaulins to them to form a fully covered 'stage'. The weather had been poor for the whole of September thus far, so nobody was very optimistic that we'd get through the day without rain. Except me. I'd picked up a gypsy woman in my taxi earlier in the month, we'd been talking about the festival, and she was a fan of Greenpeace herself, so she said I should simply tell her exactly where and when it was going to happen, then she would make sure it was a nice fine day for us. Be it natural magic or pure coincidence, she was good to her word, bless her. With stage set, toilet facilities in place and nerves jangling, all that remained was for everybody to go home and see if they could get a wink of sleep, before an early return the following morning.

"Goodnight, sweetheart, sleep tight..."