I spent much of last weekend in a farmer’s field 15 minutes outside my home town.

When I say ‘in a farmer’s field’ it makes it sound like I’m a scarecrow. (Which I’m not … except pre-hairbrush, first thing in the morning, maybe).

I was, instead, camping in the fields of a farming family who are musical, community-minded and involved in the local folk, choir and Morris dancing scenes. Last year, making use of equipment already hired in for a couple of weddings at the farm, they decided to trial a small folk festival.

And so a lovely little community event was born.

The family know many of the people attending the event personally but, with room for a few more, they advertised some tickets on Facebook. Which is where I found it.

My lovely niece had all the camping gear needed and agreed to come with me, and so a-festivaling we did go.

There was the chance to offer a workshop activity, too, so taking courage, I said I’d run something around storytelling. I was a little nervous, though. Normally, I turn up armed with plans, PowerPoints, pen and paper and enough backup activities to survive a small apocalypse. This time, I had a stack of postcards of handwritten story prompts and a field.

I needn’t have worried, though, the sessions went well. So much so that I ran some again this year, with fewer nerves. I now have another couple of ‘stories about how much I love storytelling’ in my collection (which maybe I’ll share here one day.)

The festival is built around music but, with art and other activities on offer, there’s always something going on.

Crocheting, for example. My niece is an expert and brought her own work with her, but I had a go, too, learning from a lovely young man who jumped up every now and then for a sing-a-round or join in with a bit of dancing. I may not have carried on once I got home but I don’t think I’ll ever forget sitting in the sunshine, quietly creating something tactile whilst voices harmonised and violins played all around me.

This year, I took my sketchbook and paints instead, to the same effect. Other people joined in with craft activities or worked on the jigsaw left out on the large trestle table. Singing, talking, connecting – with each other and with the nature that was all around us.

Such a great event – and very much a representation of ‘build it and they will come’. It helps to have a farm to stage it on, of course, but there’s something impressive about seeing what happens when someone simply creates a space and invites people into it.

48 hours outside in the open air, pretty much. In truth, I probably did look a bit like a scarecrow.

Whether I did or not, I used the idea in a piece I wrote with my night class participants on Wednesday evening. As I explained before I read it out, you probably need to be of a certain age to know the characters it refers to, but they seemed to enjoy it anyway.

Perhaps you might, too.