Up at crack of dawn and it's raining here which means who-knows-what it's doing across the Tamar Valley over at Port Eliot.
Up early unnecessarily in fact because we hadn't actually really looked at today's programme properly (with glasses on) and realised that the first event isn't until later this morning, which figures because the festival will not have collapsed into a heap on our departure last evening. Doubtless much revelling into the wee small hours.
In fact it may not have stopped at all.
Sadly we've opted out of the Wild Swimming event in the River Lynher this morning but the house is open to the public at 11am so I'd like to get in and soak up that atmosphere and do a bit of imagining of Hundreds Hall and The Little Stranger.
On my schedule today a clash of writers, Sarah Waters v Kamila Shamsie both at 12.45 so I'll have to do a bit of inter-event jogging between the Bowling Green and the Walled Garden to catch them both.
Alain de Botton's around so I might nip in there too and Alexander Waugh in the Round Room should be good if I can get near, he'll doubtless have something amusing to say about the incredible Lenkiewicz mural looking down on him plus he promises a piano recital.
4pm we'll just be pushing everyone out of the way to get to Ralph McTell because someone's got to be there who knows all the words to Streets of London and that's us.
I've just been reading up on the old days of this festival when it was known as The Elephant Fayre and garnered quite a reputation locally for being wild and free and quite unpredictable, anything could happen and most things did.
'brought to its knees by rampaging inner city scum high on alcohol methadone amphetamines and hell-bent on meaningless chaotic violence'
according to Lord St Germans. Allowed to rest and recuperate how amazing then that this new event with a much broader emphasis reborn in 2003 has achieved such a wonderful balance of fun and festivity with a heady mix of culture, music and everything else you can think of even within the bounds of Health and Safety.
Sadly this means no repetition of the jugglers Boris and Norris, dressed as medieval serfs dicing around with airborne livers, hearts and live rats or the Vikings who let the children shoot at them with real bows and real arrows. The children's cafe run by children for children within the confines of a 55 foot high elephant has also had to go the way of all things potentially life-threatening.
Seems hard now to remember a time when such things were allowed and happened.
Right time to grab the picnic and the waterproofs and dash, see you there.