Buddhafield Festival boasted fast food: the best onion bhajis I have ever tasted.
Nutritious – made with gram (chick pea) flour, spices of fennel, ajwain and mustard seed, and – here is the miracle – ungreasy. Generous and sustaining, only £1.
The maker was Fish, another fascinating character; makes shamanic drums from deer skin.
Here was another fast food staple from the cafe near the Dance Tent.
Stuffed with chunks of fresh vegetables including sweet potato and leeks, with olives for taste and butter beans for protein, and for an extra £1 a beautiful delicate stuffed Tibetan dumpling called a momo, bringing this princely dish to £5.
There was a fire outside the cafe. On the Friday night, I had a good chat with a lovely young woman from Sheffield.
The next night we bumped into each other again. One thing led to another until she said:
She said: “You remind me of someone know – you have similar energy….Moira”
What? My mate from Somerset who moved to Wales.
Then it all fell into place. Her parents had come to my ante natal classes over 20 years ago. “Omigod!” I said, “I knew you as a baby!” and I could remember her baby dark eyebrows and eyes there in her young woman’s face.
I take issue with that old saying: “The path to Hell is paved with good intentions”
The organisers of Buddhafield set good intentions for the festival. And much good manifested, I am sure, as a result.
Setting an intention can guide you like a compass.
On day one of the festival, a kind stranger lent us his spare sleeping bag.
When we could not find him to return it, I randomly asked his ex-tent’s neighbour:
“You don’t need a sleeping bag, do you?”
“I have not got one! Thank you!” he said.
May that sleeping bag go on to give night-warmth to whomsoever shall needeth it.