Last Wednesday we left home, bound for Oxfordshire, home to the teenage knees-up that is Truck Fest. Slightly wary, since we'd traded there last the event had been taken over by a different events company, the fifteen page booklet outlining the trader rules and regulations were pretty ridiculous and I'd read numerous posts on a festival traders forum complaining of poor security, over-trading and general inefficiency. Still, we'd paid the fee, our paperwork had passed inspection and off we went.
Most of Wednesday was spent building and setting up our stall and we were in bed by 10pm. Thursday, the day before Truck officially opened, we discovered that not only had the festival tripled in size but there were even more vintage traders than last year. On collecting our wristbands from the organisers we expressed concern that there was a four foot gap between our stall and our neighbour, enabling anyone to access the traders' so-called secure area where we park, sleep, keep our stock and our takings. We were assured that a security fence would be installed before the site opened to the general public. On Friday, with still no sign of a fence, Jon used our 1970s windbreak to fill the gap.
Most of Wednesday was spent building and setting up our stall and we were in bed by 10pm. Thursday, the day before Truck officially opened, we discovered that not only had the festival tripled in size but there were even more vintage traders than last year. On collecting our wristbands from the organisers we expressed concern that there was a four foot gap between our stall and our neighbour, enabling anyone to access the traders' so-called secure area where we park, sleep, keep our stock and our takings. We were assured that a security fence would be installed before the site opened to the general public. On Friday, with still no sign of a fence, Jon used our 1970s windbreak to fill the gap.
If we thought there were a lot of vintage stalls then it was nothing compared to the amount of glitter - even some of the clothes stalls, food stalls and festival supply stalls were offering glitter face painting & body art. In a bid to help our nearest glitter trader, Once Upon A Sparkle, next-door neighbour Amy and I took up her offer to paint our faces to promote her stall.
Friday's weather was abysmal, the day started with winds so strong a trader's stall blew away (so much for all those strict rules and regulations), then the temperature dropped and rain started and man, it was torrential! Within a couple of hours the grass had vanished and the site was a mud bath.Fortunately Truck is held on a farm and there were plenty of hay bales available to help soak up the water directly outside our pitches. As I mentioned in my blog post last year, Truck's crowd are extremely young and a huge number of them hadn't packed anything practical. By 8pm we were completely sold out of vintage 1980s sportswear, jumpers and waterproofs.
With all most of our practical stock sold we shut up shop and headed over to our vintage trader friends, Bobbie & Suzy's stall. Pre-loading on gin we made our way to the Big Top tent and went crazy to Idris Elba's DJ set.
It's the third time we've seen Idris perform and he never fails to impress.
Although the four of us were probably the same age as most of the festival goers' parents it didn't stop us getting right into the mosh pit to risk life, limb and spilt gin.
Staggering back in the early hours we quickly sobered up after discovering someone had removed our windbreak and broken into our stall. Nothing had been taken but we found discarded drug paraphernalia in our trade tent. With no sign of any security Jon stayed up until 5am, keeping an eye out for more invaders.
On Saturday we were up and open for business at 9am and the rain continued. To increase the capacity of the crowd the organisers had squeezed another campsite on the hill overlooking the site and anyone unfortunate enough to be camped at the bottom ended up flooded out with all their possessions absolutely drenched. If we'd have had a quid for everyone who asked for wellies we'd have been able to shut up shop and go home rich but sadly we didn't so we gave away our carrier bags for the shivering kids to use as socks.
I took a break between showers and briefly explored the site.
Leaving Jon and Bobby to shut up our stalls for the evening Suzy and I caught Saturday night headliners, The Libertines. As I've seen them numerous times in the past I was really looking forward to their performance but, although the music was great, Pete Doherty wasn't his usual self, barely acknowledging the crowd and spending most of the set with his back to us.
Suzy and I spotted stock we'd sold being worn. The 1960s sheepskin was one of ours, bought by a lovely Aussie guy here on a two year working visa with his wife. Show over we headed back to our pitch, shortly joined by Bobby who'd just caught someone attempting to ransack their awning. He'd managed find a security guard and handed the culprit over.
As we sat chatting we watched a gang of black-clad, balaclava'ed men running at high speed through the traders' camping area. Minutes later we intercepted a drug deal going on in the gap between ours and the neighbour's pitch, stopped a drunken teenage girl being dragged off by two older men and a dodgy guy trying to break into next door's tent. We cracked open more drinks and waited for the arena to close, there was no way we could go to bed with all that going on. Last year all we had to contend with were drunken, selfie-taking teens, annoying but harmless, this time the vibe was a lot more menacing.
By 2.30 am with the arena finally closed, the crowds made their way back to the campsite. We managed a few hours sleep before re-opening at 9am. We looked out the fifteen page rule book, found a contact number for the concessions manager and called her to voice our concerns. She came over to our pitch explaining that she'd been drafted in at the last minute to manage the trading area when the events company realised they'd taken on too big a task. She told us that the company had neglected to employ more security guards despite making the festival three times bigger and had been overwhelmed by a gang of Eastern European pickpockets and a drug dealing cartel from London, both of which had been successfully apprehended last night. Several of our neighbouring traders had had enough and decided to pack up and go home early and she promised that although Sunday night shouldn't be so full-on, she'd make sure there would be security guards on hand to stop the public accessing the gaps the departed traders had left. After us clocking up over 90 hours of work between us the last thing we wanted was for some thieving scumbag to make off with our takings.
After a slow & tedious day of trading we closed the shop. Jon kept watch while I collected Suzy and caught Maximo Park on the main stage. Despite the mud being past our ankles we danced (my maxi skirt hitched in my knickers), sung along, swigged gin and waved at festival goers dressed in our wares.
We said our goodbyes and left to pack up our stock. After all the clothes had been bagged up and the muddy stock quarantined ready for rewashing, Jon and I pulled our chairs outside, cracked open a can and listened to main stage headliners The Vaccines, who sounded incredible.
Then the fun started. The main stage shut, the kids then headed to the Market Stage opposite for a full-on rave. Wasted teens staggered about, wandering through the gaps the departed traders had left (still no fencing), pissing & vomiting on our vehicles and trade tents, pestering us for cigarettes and water. When told politely that the public weren't allowed in the trader's area, a group of lads turned aggressive and tried to fight Jon and boys from the stall next door. While Jon called the trading manager for help, Alex from next door doled out some hi-viz vests and we formed a human chain, turning away the drunken invaders by pretending to be security guards (although we probably didn't look very convincing with our glitter painted faces and colourful outfits). Eventually help arrived in the form of two massive security guards who erected a 10 foot security fence in the gap and stood with us until the entertainment finished and the kids had staggered off to bed.
With the alarm set for 7am yesterday, we disassembled the rest of the pitch and, after two hours of queuing, finally managed to get off the site littered with vehicles stuck in the mud. On the way out we were horrified by the state of the campsite. People talk about the wastefulness of the Glastonbury crowd but it was nothing compared to Truck. I've never seen so many abandoned tents, camping chairs and rubbish. If we weren't half dead we might have been tempted to rescue some of the abandoned camping gear.
Yes, we sold stock, made money, saw some great bands and met some lovely people but going back and trading there next year? You've got to be trucking kidding!
Linking to Patti & the gang for Visible Monday.
