A punky mother gives words of encouragement to her young son as he prepares to have his face painted. Fashion followers take note, for the lad featured below is sporting a 'Beckham' mohawk, the haircut of choice amongst boys aged between 6-11 who were prepared to pester their parents to distraction enough for one at their local barber's during the summer of 2001, though I've yet to see a little girl sporting a 'Beckham' (I guess a lot of parents are highly conscious of how their daughters are seen by family and friends alike, so different rules get applied to them).

Mr. Face-Painter bloke at work on a little girl.

Back at the main stage, the Rev. Larry Love, along with the rest of the Alabama 3 posse (and a bloke dressed as a policeman on stilts) were turning it out in their own unique style, much to the pleasure of the crowd down the front.

A lady with a jumbo in the park (check out the shades,
worn for added anonymity) and no, browsers, you are
most definitely not hallucinating at the size of it.

Undampened ravers, enjoying some choice trance.

A view of the park, taken near the 'schNEWS-Squall tent where earlier on, I was pleasantly surprised to find some pics of mine featured in the 'schNEWS-Squall yearbook 2001' and the 2001-02 edition of 'Festival Eye'. To the editors of both publications, thanks for including my pics.

Rounding things off, here's another pic below that with a bit of luck, might find its way in either of the above publications next year. Having bought a T-shirt earlier with a print of a Wiltshire horse on it from a tent nearby,
I was about cycle back to the train station, when I saw a bloke cradled and harnessed between a pair of penny-farthing sized wheels pedalling furiously around the park while chased by some local kids.
        Rushing ahead of him on foot, I dropped my bike to the ground, whipped out the Olympus (quickly lining up the shot as best I could) and got the pic below, hoping for the best as I snapped him whizzing past me.
        With that done, I headed backed to Tottenham, where I washed the mud from my sandals and feet, as well as repairing yet another puncture my 'Mk III' Moulton bike got on the ride back (if someone went and opened up a bike shop on the Tottenham High Road, instead all the false fingernail parlours you'll find here at present, they'd clean up for sure, as cyclists around are poorly catered for in the area where I live). Another lovely fest I'll find myself at again next year for sure.

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