over it.

I think most of you know that I lost all my photos. I’ve got angry, cried and sighed. Then accepted it regretfully. This morning I told both girls that I had lost all the photos since last September and Lila said “it doesn’t matter, you’ll just have to take LOADS more!” Lol. I high fived her and agreed.

So. What lead up to this?I had read many forums and also asked my own advice, asking to be spoken to like a three year old. I was told about various applications that I would need to be able to access the phone’s memory in locked mode. Yesterday evening a friend phoned and said her husband, who is an android technogeek, would look at it. I got to their house at 9pm and he spent two hours, I told him about the programmes that had been recommended and he said that was what he was using. After two hours he hadn’t even been able to see what was in the memory or files, let alone access them. In the end he said that Factory Reset was my only option.

So I did it.

I have now signed up for dropbox and all my photos will automatically fly up there.

I have, of course, been able to retrieve all the photos on facebook.

And, as for Womad. We had a great weekend. I took so many photos for my ditl Womad entry, loads of what I called “people of Womad”, candid shots of people having fun, sitting and eating picnics. A lady with a gorgeous afro dancing, her hair flying around. There were a group of tanned, little clad, be-dreadlocked youths juggling. I took photos of the stalls; the Moroccan lamps, Mexican hammocks, African clothes and recycled/upcycled jewellery and handbags. I photographed the pancake stall from which Lila had every meal and the churros and chocolate that talaia thoroughly enjoyed. I photographed tuareg groups from Mali, Zimbabwe based pop/rock. Galician folk melded with flamenco guitar sung by an incredibly expressive singer. We watched a Sufi band who were made up of a dad and his 9 sons from Lahore, Pakistan. The dad was in charge and spent most of the time smiling contentedly.

We danced like lunatics to a Romanian brass band – intense rhythms that no one could keep up with, lost ourselves in the rhythm of African A Capella.

It rained, but mostly the sun shone. We slept in our tent, the girls going to bed later each day. They painted t shirts and Talaia bought Indian fair trade Ribbon Poi from a circus skills stall. Lila bought a fair trade cuddly rabbit from Sri Lanka.

We packed up in light drizzle which suddenly became torrential as we were filling the boot of the car and we trudged through the mud in our sandals, taking shelter in the portaloos when it became heavier then going towards the Lizard Lounge. Our last day tradition is to go to this deep red and orange tent decorated in a north African style, they keep a big pot of chai on the stove all the time the spices embedding themselves in the milky consistency more and more as the hours pass.

Sitting on the grass and velvet throws scattered around the ground are subdued people; hungover, tired, sad people. The end of our community, our break from the real world coming to an end and as we all sit in our own groups, the murmur of chat hovering in the air the owner sits behind his decks playing folk music from all eras. Random people walk up to him to thank him and he greets them all with friendly recognition. The people who looked as though they had walked out of their 9 – 5 on Thursday were blending in with the travellers. Unkempt hair, unshaven faces. It’s such a beautiful, calm atmosphere the light shining a deep red hue adding to the relaxed feeling.

It was an amazing weekend.

And I will do a ditl entry from Spain… We go on Saturday you know 🙂