Farmer Phils and Muddy Thrills at the Galtres Festival.

It is the end of August and I have been to two more festivals. The sun was shining for Farmer Phil’s Festival and it was dry enough to sit down. Rob was there with his dog, as it is one of the few festivals you are allowed to take a dog too. I took a disposable BBQ and when it was very late and the bands and big noises had gone quiet, I got out my torch and cooked sausages in the dark.

 

Last weekend I was at Galtres Festival and I forgot to take my wellies. It rained all the way there and cars were being towed by a big tractor out of the deep mud that got on my clothes and in my shoes and round my ankles and everywhere else.

The tent where the music and comedy was going on was full of people and I nearly didn’t get in. There was a medieval village with loads of storytelling kings and bards and pirates. I had a pork and stuffing sandwich with real stuffing.

Transmitters.

Bye bye Bellmont, farewell Winter Hill,
Transmitting telly signals, to fill our lounge with thrills.

So long Crystal Palace, ta ta Winter Hill,
Pontop Pike and Emley moor and associated transmitters of the independent television network.

Everything went digital and you’re now in the past,
The switchover has killed you and now you’re just a mast.

Hello

Hurray, my new website is on cyberspace and I can now type words into it. I am Danny Pensive, and I do comedy and write diaries and do videos, then put them on here so you can see them.

I love going on adventures to new places I have not been before, then having a sit down and a think with a cup of tea. Have a look around my website and don’t forget to join the mailing list so the lawnmower man can come and find you and give you digital tickles with his cyber fingers.