Didsburydad's Blog

From the not so mean streets of M20, blog about being a dad, Didsbury and dealing with parental confusion

Archive for the day “June 13, 2015”

Didsbury Festival – My tuppence worth

There is something wonderfully timeless about Didsbury Festival. The parade, the mix of charities, scouts and local causes peddling goodies and the eye-watering prices at the funfair. It has a community spirit that is genuinely uplifting and a lack of threat that is one of South Manchester’s greatest strengths.

However, I must admit I felt a slight sense of tiredness and staleness . It might be me. Didsbury Son volunteers, keeps his profile as low as possible and slopes off. The Mighty Headed Boy and his Pearly-Princess sister are a year too young to be part of it and a year too old too need a sleep so we can hang out and speak to friends.
I had the feeling that it needs a bit of an upgrade. The festival is/has been a great call to congregate for the whole of M20. The 21st Century vibe that emanate from WestFest, Makers Market and Didsbury Arts Festival have upped the ante. No longer is there a Cibo, Nido or suchlike to lower the expectation. 
The. Field felt a little sparsely used this year and the compère  was barely annoying; something not quite as Didsbury as usual.
We have a Metrolink station and are a media savvy/luvvy crowd. Without losing the essential feel – a few new tweaks and a decent marketing campaign are needed to come back in 2015 and draw the crowd away from the European Championships. 
Thinking caps on…

Didsbury’s Afternoon Delight

Philip Larkin once wrote “They F you up, your mum and dad.” He had never tried to conduct an in-depth, personally verifiable review of the food on offer whilst looking after two toddlers. Toddlers in a slight strip and confused that their park is awash with strange people.
So far I’ve managed a few slurps on a traffic light lolly (second hand). But as the phenomenal cost of twins on rides mounts up – the home cooked Indian foodhas eluded me and I haven’t snaffled so much as a burger as the first twenty has disappeared. 
The Festival is as busy as ever. We had tickets for the VIP area of Pavillion Cafe but the throng is too much and there are Kardashian rumours. 

  VIP area at Pavillion Cafe.

There seems to be a more laid back feel to this year than usual. There is lots going on, plenty of old friends to nod to and there is still a Syrian Chicken Kebab with my name on it whist the Zumba goes on in the main arena.

I’ve been on VIP watch. Winston Churchill spotted in Didsbury

   Dog Show – the bloodshed goes on


i am outraged. As the sun spills it’s glassy rays over a field where once were muddy puddles of Peppa A grade standard, there is insurrection in Didsbury Park.

I had the family sitting together watching Gladiator this morning. I told them about  the beautiful savagery of the dog show and how the losers would meet in some Elyssian Field near Chorlton. I told them to prep their thumbs ready to despatch some Daschund.


But No. This dog show featured nought  but laughter, scruffy happy dogs and a slight whiff of chum. 

If I can’t get the twins a full face Maori tattoo at the face paint stall there will be trouble.


The Wall of Death is another letdown. I have a feeling this is not The Thunderdome.

Somewhere over the Rainbow

The Sky is getting all Procul Harum. The warm ups are done and the parade – complete with bored dads on their mobiles is in full swing. 

 The warm-up.

Now it’s almost time to get fleeced in a polite way by people you know. This is Didsbury. A day for waft-tailed dogs, home-cooked Indian food and damp shoes. For by this time tomorrow we shall once more own our playground. 

Didsbury Festival 10am Recce

 Its a little bit wet in the park. The Scouts and Explorers are looking nonchalant, the muddy puddles are filling up nicely and I’ve seen two seagulls and an albatross. 

The Man City Didsbury Blues are showing a film of United’s Greatest Home Defeats and the Hog Roast is a pork broth


Didsbury Festival Live Blog 8am

Wanda and the Alien jogs along happily in the background. Didsbury Son, typical. He was a beaver in the parade last week – all squeaky voiced giggles and clammy squeezes and now he is an explorer pushing baby beavers up a climbing wall in the park.

The no-longer-Boddlers are unaware that today is Glastonbury, Bestival and Lattitude rolled into one with everyone they know from nursery. In fact it’s a bit like the hose dreams you have when everyone’s you went to school with is in the future yer at Fawlty Towers and John Cleese has morphed into the lovely Eddie from Evans Fishmongers; just me?

It’s overcast. The bunting is up, the clouds are down and they haven’t started testing the loudspeaker yet.

The Stone Roses have cancelled but the dog with the waggiest tail competition goes ahead as planned and talk of a duel between Brimelow and Wadden for who is the most purple estate agent linger.

Time for a cup of tea before Wanda finishes.

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