The night before the Festival we went out to have dinner at a Turkish place in Surry Hills. Haz *loved* it! There was a bellydancer who was completely upstaged by Miss H - Harry started bopping up and down in her chair, so we moved her to the floor where she could see the dancer and she started going off! Clapping and bopping away, she even walked halfway up the aisle to try and be with the main dancer but she was called back to entertain her devoted fans at our end of the restaurant.
Well we made our pilgrimage to the Newtown Festival and what a disappointment. It was really hot and overcast (so nice and humid, urgh), so packed with people that you couldn't wlak freely anywhere, full of stalls all (seemingly) selling the same rubbish (and no funky children's clothing either), and poor Haz was just overcome by it all. If we go next year it will definitely be earlier in the day.
As it was she had a go at the big painting canvas on the floor but wasn't all that keen. The best part of the day for her was eating the shaved ice that 'Crazy Uncle Ian' (now his official name) bought for her. 
We popped by the Camdenville PS stall to try and catch up with Harry, Barb, Indi and Cooper but to noo avail. Harry did, however, try her hand at the colouring-in competition (which she failed to win. I can't understand it - surely her three green pencil strokes right across the page were a sign of postmodernist rejection of boundary?).
And, well, here is the Harriet of this week. Flat, depressed, miraculously in this shot not in my arms. All-in-all not a happy chappy. Don't you just love the legs? How ladylike.
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