What day is it?

Sunday, Monday and Tuesday pass in a blur of heat and continuing long shifts. We start the main stage wall designs that wrap down to and around the left and right hand sides of the main stage. Drawing and painting the curling and swirling dancing Wickermad hatter designs. We spend each day painting in the burning sun.

Design. Draw. Paint. Repeat.

Design. Draw. Paint. Repeat.

We are a conveyor belt of circle painting flowing creators. Our paint struggles to stay runny and consistent in the sun. We struggle to stay out of the sun. There is no shade. There is no main stage. Nothing to cast a shadow over the crew.

As the week cracks on some crew have to head home. We wave goodbye and can see the emotion on their face’s as they begrudgingly leave us to finish and enjoy the coming days. New helpers arrive and pick up the struggle with the paint and the heat. The commitment, loyalty and passion from this crew is astounding me on a daily basis by this point. Everyone going the extra mile for me and not asking for anything in return but love, respect and enjoyment. I love them. They outperform every other crew on site.

The Bluetopia crew are received warmly by others on site for our generosity, helpfulness and ability to trade help for help, cans for cuppas or buggy lifts for banter. We enjoy observing the stage build – wow those boys are so impressive! It’s quite amazing and inspiring to watch as they crane the main structure into shape and then climb all over it, pulling, hoisting and lifting the huge wrap around canopy over the wide gaping stage. Their shouts of “heave ho” go on for hours at a time. Yet by lunchtime on their first day the structure is all up and half covered.

It’s hot. Have I said that? The crew are wilting and wandering. Lilting and laying. And who can blame them? There is no perfect weather solution for this job. We just have to crack on, grateful it’s not wet and windy. Everyone is pink and flushed. My little legs are sunburnt all down the back. And in desperation at no relief from sun protection cream, I roll my purple paint roller down my calves. An action I regret as soon as the paint dries taut. A tight pulling agony as it stretches my sun burn every time I move. I also greatly regret this action when I step into a shocking yet soothing cold shower that evening. Scraping baked on paint off of bright red sunburnt skin is not a pleasant experience. I can advise that paint is not a good sun protection barrier.

Our minds begin to hate circles, hate murals, hate hats and hate painting. Each of us desperate to be doing anything else! So we take a break from this part of the design and have fun drawing around each other for the dancing people. We all strike amusing poses which, even though silhouettes, look exactly like us! We assist one crew member in holding a very shaky hand stand for her pose. We add in our own colouring and are delighted with the finished result.

By late Tuesday afternoon the left side of our mural wall is complete and looking incredible. But there is still much to do on the right. Let alone the other jobs around site.

Finishing each day exhausted and weary we push our wheel barrow of battery powered sound and supplies back up the hill and along the track towards the flapping big pink tent that is our final destination each night.

The heat in base camp is horrific. We use what little energy we have left to unzip everything to let air through. We sit in a close circle, like a tribe, united in weariness and yet pleased with the work we have done, progress feels slow but we are delighted about the sunshine, if not the actual heat.

The crew are mostly silent, still and slightly broken. Grunts and noises respond as the cook serves dinner but once the food goes down and the beers start flowing the team come back to life, not quite spring, but more like shwing and the conversation and hilarity begins again.

I sleep at night with my van door open. Listening to the sound of the crew’s jovial voices and daft conversations, warming my heart and putting a relaxed content grin on my face. I drift off to sleep each night thinking how lucky I am to have such a wonderful bunch of friends.

Wednesday arrives and it’s a 6am start for me and my right hand creative genius. We head straight back to the wall and paint circles for 2 hours. Then I leave her there, eyes circling, while I walk to pick up the buggy and trailer we have for the day. I am excited and ecstatic to see this day arrive. Everything all kicks off today with VIP getting started, constructionists on site, our various random installations going up around the site, the scaffolding boys in for flag poles, and the decoration of the Star Wood bar. So I zoom past base camp at 8:05am heavy on the accelerator and heavy on the hooter with excitement. Much to the disdain of some of the rudely awoken crew, who groggily moan about whoever that noisy person is on the passing beeping buggy!

The high spirited crew all get split up between jobs. Its madness for me running here there and everywhere and its madness for the crew too. All busy pushing on at full pelt. The few left to finish the wall find it relentless. It’s a long and lonely job on the wall now. The rest of us scooting about covering seven different areas of the site.

And everyone loves the buggy. Easy to control, easy to drive. You would think. Not for one crew member though... Who when having a shot with me as a passenger on the phone, takes us up, over and down a steep hill to where four crew members are trying to erect one of our heaviest arches. We get nearer and nearer the team. We shoot past the team. I begin screaming “brake brake brake!” as we hurtle towards a wall. Her inane grin and lack of understanding clear of nothing. So I grab the steering wheel at the last moment and we commit a hair pin turn around the precarious archway and slow to a halt as we hit the upwards slope again.

“I thought it just stopped when you lifted off the pedal?” she gasped.

“Not going downhill! Inertia!! Now get out the buggy lady!” I squealed.

Heart in throat, trembling knees, I drop her off and quickly evacuate in the buggy in fear for my life that is flashing before my eyes.

I barely have time to check in on VIP. Jobs across the site are getting behind, communication the main issue, as we have no walkie-talkies and I can’t be everywhere at once to supervise. I am stressed but in a good way. I need a boss hat to warn the crew, here I come, on a mission, pointing finger at the ready!

Everyone is chipping in. Everyone is busy. Even the cook is in on the action. Learning new skills and stepping out of her comfort zone. Everyone is rising to the challenge.

And we all have lots of buggy fun. I accidentally take a wrong turn and end up driving through the half finished acoustic village and carry out some top speed evasive manoeuvres, preventing me from running over their hand crafted items drying out on the grass. Twisting and turning the buggy through small gaps much to the delight and squeals of my passenger. We exit the area. And breathe a sigh of relief. No harm done. What a ride!

Late afternoon I can see the VIP flag poles are up. I need some of the constructionists working in there on a few other build jobs so I whizz through the gate for an update.

The garden looks fantastic, with its huge banquet table and bench seats, large banquet flags, rustic thrones and iron frame kissing seats. But when I walk into the VIP lounge I am stopped in my tracks. So impressed in my friends realisation of a shared vision. It is perfect. It is a dream come true. It makes me cry with tears of joy. The place looks incredible. Full three dimensional fire place, tartan wall paper, wood panelling, fake book cases, Scottish pictures, more flags and pride of place, my Wickerhall pyrographed sign. I hugged and sobbed on them all. They absolutely did me proud. Big up to the VIP crew.

Yet there is still much to do.

Its early evening and we still need more hours on VIP. Extra jobs are coming at us left right and centre from the Wickerman organisers. Touch ups, make overs and time stealing jobs. By 1am we are absolutely knackered and we call it a day. One day left to finish the site...can it be done?

Article: Lou Hyland