The end bit

Cropredy is different. Unlike many music festivals, profit is not the only motive. Cropredy has grown organically. Back in the mid-seventies, several Fairport members lived nearby, and the band played a set for the annual village garden party. When FC disbanded in 1979, their final gig was in a barn here. They enjoyed it so much that they did it again the next year. By 1983, the festival was on the current site, attracting a few thousand people. As the years have passed and the crowds have grown, the organisation has kept up, the residents have continued to accept a population explosion during the second week of August, much money has been raised for local causes, and everyone has had a good time. The site is now at maximum occupancy, fire regulations will not allow more than 20,000 people at Cropredy.

Everyone, the organisers, the villagers, the police, want you to have a good time. They don't want you to get hurt, sick or ripped off. But there's one other thing to consider.

Cropredy is magic. It's the word that most people eventually get round to using. When you are standing in the field late on Saturday night, singing Meet on the Ledge with everyone else, knowing that if you really mean it, it all comes round again... it's magic. When you stroll down a Cropredy lane in the sunshine, with the thought of a pint at the end of it, and it's soooo quiet... it's magic. When you are sat in a circle with good friends, singing songs... it's magic. When you walk through the campsite and realise that everyone around you kind of likes you just because you're here... it's magic, and the magic will seep into your soul.

Next year, you'll want to come back, possibly for the music, possibly for the atmosphere, or maybe just for another taste of the magic. And you'll say "I think I'll go to Cropredy. Gonna see all my friends..."