Camp Bestival @ Lulworth Castle (30 July - 1 August 2010)

Random Daddy: ‘Madness - they’re really famous. They did that song,(sings) it must be love, LOVE LOVE! And that one (sings) baggy trousers dobedodobedo baggy trousers….ONE STEP BEYOOOOOND! Welcome To The House Of Fun, they did that too. You know that one. Their singer is called Suggs.’

Random Daughter: ‘Suggs?’

Random Daddy: ‘Yep, Suggs. He’s great.’

Random Daughter: (scoffing) ‘Suggs! That’s more like a name for a turtle!’

This conversation, it should be noted, occurred not long after Suggs – the Suggs, actual real life Suggs, It-Must-Be-Love-Night-Boat-To-Cairo-Baggy-Trousers-Welcome-To-The-House-Of-Fun-dodobedobedo Suggs - walked past us in the queue for churros.

That’s the sort of festival Camp Bestival is. Suggs randomly walking around the crowd sucking down coconut milk while most of punters are more interested in little sticks of sugary dough.

It’s not that the crowd doesn’t appreciate Suggs but, in reality, the average Camp Bestivaler is either to old to do the screaming groupie thing or too young to realise that there’s any significance to a recognisable face.

Unless, of course, that face has a red nose and painted on freckles.

Yes, the biggest name on the Camp Besti bill is CBeebies sensation Mr Tumble. While kids gawped as he joined Saturday’s fancy dress parade thousands of mums fell to their knees and worshipped the only man who can keep their toddlers quiet for more than ten seconds and whom one misguided Toddler Review mummy (NOT ME) has even developed a crush on.

Mummy: ‘Oh my goodness Lil, if Mr Tumble comes out will you wet yourself? I might!’

Another Mummy: (excited) ‘Is he coming on now? Right now?’

Mummy: (enthusiastic nodding) ‘Yes, I think they’re about to get him out…’

Another Mummy: (wide eyed) ‘Get him out? Like they keep him in a box…’

(silence as both mummies contemplate the benefits of Tumble-in-a-Box)

Mr Tumble signed autographs, he smashed the Castle Stage with his Rock ‘n Roly Poly performance – which included a number of hit rock and roll songs, clown stylee and a good old custard pie session, all following an incredible entrance to the Space Odyssey theme, through smoke…on a trike with a comedy horn.

Although the Tumble was a great success, in The Toddler Review’s humble opinion The Gruffalo was less so. A Camp Bestival exclusive, the Castle Stage performance failed to hold Lillie and Ted’s attention. It was too drawn out, too drab and, unless you were one of the few located right up against the stage, near impossible to make out who was who and what was what. As Daddy pointed out ‘when they came on I thought they were stage hands’. The Gruffalo could learn a thing or two from Tumble about stage presence.

Perhaps surprisingly (though perhaps not given Mummy and Lillie’s obsession with them) the hit of the weekend for TTR, kids and ‘rents alike, was the awesome Friendly Fires. As ever the combination of glittery green drums, flamboyantly spastic dancing and the upbeat tracks that have been repeatedly blasted at our children’s ear holes for the last two years hit the spot. The ‘Fires never make a mistake and always get the crowd moving. Daddy was dubious to begin with, ‘will they ever play new songs?’ (yes), giving Mummy the opportunity to hoist rock chick Lil onto her shoulders and shimmy through the crowd to a stage-front spot.

Such is Camp Bestival that a four-year-old is perfectly safe up front, rocking out to Jump In The Pool (and we mean rocking out, Mummy’s shoulders have the ache to prove it) before finally collapsing in to a loud music induced sleep, finally satisfied that her soul reason for visiting Dorset has been fulfilled and she has danced with Ed McFarlane to her very favourite song in the whole widest world.

Mummy: ‘You’ll like him, he’s the only person in the world who dances better than you.’
Lillie: (furious) ‘WHAT?!’

When the music wrapped, after a hard weekend of eclectic weirdness – Chas off Chas n Dave, The Human League, Stornoway, the rather good newly discovered by Mummy and Daddy Wolf Gang, Mr Scruff, George Clinton and Funkadelic, Calvin Harris (Ted: (following Calvin Harris’s set) ‘I GET ALL THE GIRLS I GET ALL THE GIRLS I GET ALL THE GIRLS!’) – the fireworks kicked off in spectacular style, another famous Camp Bestival ending which makes you wonder why London didn’t ask Rob da Bank to sort the Millennium for them.

Mummy: ‘All I can think is that their insurance must be sky high…’
Daddy: ‘I know, and the man must be moving very quickly with his taper.’

While we had some niggles – the campsite was too rocky, too hilly, too sleeping on a slopey, the music line up, though featuring some crackers (uber funky George Clinton and the always amazing value Cuban Brothers) was almost too mainstream, too un-indie, making Sunday’s headliners a bizarre choice, the map was utter bobbins and the programme lacking info for a whopping tenner and, most notably, River Cottage’s mackerel bap was not windproof, resulting in Mummy’s long lusted after Hugh F-W snack being snatched away in a strong gust – Camp Bestival was in many ways the perfect family festival.

Combining music with talks (Daddy absorbed himself in a William Orbit chatette, Mummy waited patiently for a very late Hugh Fearnley Whatischops BEFORE the mackerel bap incident), dance, circus, fairground, theatre, extreme sports, art, fancy dress and what can safely be called the best festival food we’ve chowed, Camp Bestival is very obviously created with a certain type of family in mind. The addition of the Isle of Boden tent is testament to that. The site is absolutely beautiful, everybody from organisers to performers to festival goers is as friendly as they are smiling.

Most importantly the toilets are immaculate (for a festival) nearly the whole way through. It’s the insignificant but so important details like this that make it obvious that for organisers Rob da Bank and his wife Josie, Camp Bestival is a labour of love, something that they really enjoy. Rob and Josie aren’t in it for the money, they’ve created Camp Bestival because if they were going to a festival with their own kids (and TTR did spot them out in the throngs) this is the one they’d want to go to.

Daddy may have complained that ‘it’s so middle class it’s almost too safe,’ but I have a sneaking suspicion that we may be back next year. Especially if a certain roly-poly clown is topping the bill again.

*****

Daddy: ‘Who’s that doing a book signing?’

Mummy: ‘It’s Charlie Higson off the Fast Show. Do you think it’d be ok to ask him Charlie – potato – will – courgette – you – beetroot – sign – broccoli – my – mushroom – book – aubergine?

Daddy: ‘I think he’d love it.’

*****

Mummy: ‘Look Lil! Mr Tumble’s on!’

Lillie: ‘Is it time for Friendly Fires yet?’

*****

Daddy: (after a long disappearance) ‘I don’t mind Calvin Harris but I couldn’t stand all the Mum Dancing.’

*****

Daddy: ‘what was your favourite thing at the festival Ted? Mr Tumble? The Gruffalo? The food? The dancing?’

Ted: ‘BIG WHEEL!’

Daddy: ‘One hundred and fifty five quid per person and he likes the big bloody wheel.’