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The strange tale of Stephane et Grahame


Dog Burger
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Did anybody encounter this enigmatic duo at EoTR last year?

We arrived early on Thursday, set up a tight circle of around 10 tents, and went off to make merry. On our return to Camp Blobby, we discovered despite the usual ample space in Larmer Tree's sweeping verdant fields, two tents had been set up right in the centre of our circle. 

It seemed a bizarre choice, with attention focused from all directions, and we speculated excitedly about who would choose such a pitch for the next four days. 

It wasn't until that evening that we met the unlikely duo that were Stephane – a genial Frenchman living in Dublin – and his taciturn, mostly mute sidekick, Grahame.

Over the weekend that followed, there were only fleeting sightings of each – Stephane because he spent most of his time wobbling around the arena, cider in hand, and Grahame because he slept near constantly, all the while emitting a sound like a yak being butchered. There was no form of intervention that could interrupt the cacophonous grunting emerging from his canvas domain. 

We noticed on the few occasions he was upright, that Grahame wore a pair of comprehensively buggered black work shoes. It is my absolute belief that they were his sole footwear choice for the weekend.

Our final glimpse of this idiosyncratic pairing was on Monday morning, as Stephane furiously shook Grahame's one-man tent and shouted "GRAHAME, YOU IDIOT, WAKE UP, WE HAVE TO GET TO THE AIRPORT. WE'RE GOING TO MISS OUR FLIGHT, YOU BASTARD". 

An hour later, all that remained were the two yellowed patches of grass where our momentary pals had set up camp. And the shoes. 

Nearly a year later, in idle moments, my mind drifts back to images of Stephane and Grahame. Did they really exist? Why did they camp in the middle of our circle? Did they make their flight? Is Grahame still wandering, barefoot, around Bristol airport? Will they be back this year? 

 

 

Edited by Dog Burger
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Great story. We once set up early camp at the far end of General Camping with barely another tent in sight. We left and came back to find one additional tent within about 50 yards of ours, which was pitched about a foot away. Even the guy's wife called him a gimp the next morning.

And last year I met an exceptionally tall young Aussie chap called Alex. Stoned off his head and full of beans about how amazing the festival was. Me and my mate are both over 6 feet tall and he towered over us, calling us short-arses. It was all done in good humour. I hope to see him bouncing around again this year.

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One year, as we sat by our tent, having a couple of beers, we spotted this bloke just standing around, scratching his head and looking bewildered. He'd clearly lost his tent, but his demeanor amused as somewhat. Eventually he seemed to track it down and proceeded to rummage through it, arse-crack exposed to the world. Like a bear digging for honey (not sure this is a real thing), we were creasing up (little things for little minds) and he was soon nicknamed "The Quizzical Bear".

Saw him again the following year, much to our amusement, but he doesn't seem to have returned. Strongly believe that that patch of earth in General Camping that looks like a grave is where he is buried. It's what he would have wanted 

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A few years ago, we got to the site pretty early so we were one of the first handful of people to make our way into the large expanse of the general camping area. We all dumped our stuff on the ground in our rough usual spot and sat down and cracked open some beers before we faced the task of putting the tents up.

I was sat down with my arms out just behind me with my hands on the ground chatting away when, despite the acres of space around, somebody walked right past and trod on my hand!

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5 hours ago, paulwa said:

Me and my mate are both over 6 feet tall and he towered over us, calling us short-arses. It was all done in good humour. I hope to see him bouncing around again this year.

You'll likely find him standing in front of my partner so.  She seems to always get pure giants in front of her.

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5 hours ago, shoebox said:

One year, as we sat by our tent, having a couple of beers, we spotted this bloke just standing around, scratching his head and looking bewildered. He'd clearly lost his tent, but his demeanor amused as somewhat. Eventually he seemed to track it down and proceeded to rummage through it, arse-crack exposed to the world. Like a bear digging for honey (not sure this is a real thing), we were creasing up (little things for little minds) and he was soon nicknamed "The Quizzical Bear".

Saw him again the following year, much to our amusement, but he doesn't seem to have returned. Strongly believe that that patch of earth in General Camping that looks like a grave is where he is buried. It's what he would have wanted 

Genuinely think this might have been me. Near the bottom corner of the campsite basically as soon as you come in?

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8 hours ago, Mhoare92 said:

Genuinely think this might have been me. Near the bottom corner of the campsite basically as soon as you come in?

Far end, all the way past the Eastern style folly and right against the hedge. We learned our lesson and bought wind breaks the next year as a defensive measure😆.

Edited by paulwa
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Ha ha. At Green Man festival a few years back woke up at 5 am to a furious woman hollering ‘you’re drunk.  Where the hell have you been? The only reason I haven’t locked you out is I’m in a TENT!’  Poor bloke didn’t have a torch and all tents look the same in the dark🤣

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5 hours ago, paulwa said:

Far end, all the way past the Eastern style folly and right against the hedge. We learned our lesson and bought wind breaks the next year as a defensive measure😆.

Ah maybe not then, I couldn't find my tent when I was incapacitated and was definitely getting laughed at

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