Unlike the previous year, when I discovered the pleasures of walking in mud
wearing sandals, the 2002 Cannabis Rally was mercifully absent of rain (though a
little more warmth on the day would have done it for me).
Taking the train to Herne Hill from King's Cross, the first thing I did on entering Brockwell Park was turn 'Red Nev' (my '64 Moulton 'Deluxe' bike) over and fitted a new tyre and inner tube I got from Camden earlier in the day, thus ending three months of near-endless and tiresome (no pun intended!) puncture repairs, while simultaneously fending off sinister born-again types doing vulture impressions who'd descended upon the park and tried to invite me for tea in their tent they'd erected nearby, and later on getting props from Brazilian crusties walking past for sporting a footy shirt of said nation beneath my corduroy jacket. Having broken my record for tyre repair (15mins., instead of the 20-30 mins. that it usually takes me), I was ready to start snapping. Here's my first pic of the festy I took that day at around1.30p.m., it doesn't look all that encouraging, but stick around as it gets better as you go along.
....and here's the band
who kicked things off,
Dubmerge (as seen through my zoom lens),
turning it out in their own, alternative
hip-hoppy sort of way.
Here's Dubmerge's m.c. bod lyric rinsin'....
....while the bloke with the tea cosy on the
congas, along with the other bods in the band
put out a tight rhythm for him to rhyme over.
of some little-known English footballer (or "soccer - pronounced'
saarcaar' - star", by those of you browsing from the U.S.) whom you
may have heard a tiny bit about in the media every now and then during the
summer, as done by a bloke named Badile whom I snapped on his unicycle
a month or two earlier, down in Trafalgar Square at an anti-war demo.
While Pakistan and India played a deadly game of "go on then, blink first" and stood just a little too frighteningly close to the brink of mutually assured nuclear annihilation than most would prefer, folks with time on their hands up and down the country prayed for Mr. Spiky Top's second metatarsal on his injured foot to heal in time for the start of the World Cup, so it's always good to know that there are people about whose priorities are sorted out.
...while in the second snap, I found myself having what some would call a "photographer's Mexican stand-off" with a lady I saw only a few days earlier down in Ladbroke Grove snapping away at the 'Sunday Mellow-Out'. I wonder how her pic of me came out?
Go to the next page