(Written 16/4/15. I don't usually post scripts I've written for my FolkCast "Story Behind The Song" slot, but if there's one tale I've been asked to tell more than any other, it's this one. If you want to hear what it sounds like when put into the hands of a good producer, or the song this story inspired, or even Colin playing, then Google "folkcast" and download the show from May 2015.)
Hiya, FolkCasters, Babba here with another tale of the events that inspired a folk song. For once, though, this tale doesn’t need any research to tell – because I was there when the events took place. If you’ve got a copy of Free Reed’s excellent “Cropredy Capers”, you may recognise this <intro, brief>, but whether you know the song or not, allow me to tell you why, nearly twelve years ago, so many people were asking “Where is Colin?”
I first met Colin Lennox in the mid-1980s. He was a huge Fairport Convention fan and he’d never missed a Cropredy since 1977, when Fairport played their last-ever gig in the village hall. My first Cropredy was 1982, and I haven’t missed one since then. By 1986, Colin and I were meeting at his place in London every August, then travelling to Cropredy together. If you came to the Festival between 1986 and 2002, you might well have seen us after the music in the arena had finished, because we used to go back to the tents, brew coffee, open a bottle or two, get our guitars out and have a bit of a sing.
Sadly, Colin was diagnosed with cancer in the late 1990s. He fought hard against it, and his doctors fought harder, but at the start of 2003 he was told that the condition was terminal. He spent his last few months at home recording the music he loved to play, and the background music you’re hearing comes from this legacy that he left his friends and family.
Colin died in the spring of 2003. Shortly before he passed away, he had an email from the Fairports, wishing him, and I quote, “Much love at this difficult time”. Dave, Simon, Ric, Chris, Gerry – if any of you hear this, you should know that Colin was over the moon when he read your message. Thank you.
Colin made it clear that he wanted his ashes scattered over the arena field at Cropredy, but this hadn’t happened when August rolled around that year. A day or so before the Festival, I took a call from Colin’s best friend Paul. “I’ve just had Colin’s sister on the phone”, he explained, “And she’s got a favour to ask… but she says she’ll understand if you think it’s too weird.” Well, your Uncle Babba has never been a stranger to weird… so Paul explained that Colin’s family were trying to find a date when they could all get together to scatter his ashes, but they remembered that Colin never missed Cropredy… and would Paul and I take his remains to the Festival and bring them back?
Well, why not? It was the least we could do for our pal. And so it was that we set off with a cardboard box labelled “Human Remains” in the passenger foot well of my car, carefully zipped into a small black nylon bag to avoid offending anyone. Once we’d pitched the tents in our usual spot on Field 2, we met up with lots of friends, and without fail, every one of them said “Such a pity Colin’s not here…” To which, of course, we replied, “Oh, but he is!” and showed them the black bag. It may sound odd, it may strike some people as being disrespectful, but there was a lot of love in the air that evening.
The next morning, we met a mutual friend, David Hughes. David offered his condolences and we went through the by now familiar routine of “He’s here!” At which, David smiled and asked whether we thought Colin would like to go on stage at Cropredy, because David was playing a spot that afternoon. Of course he would – which is why David went onstage carrying his guitar… and a small black nylon bag, which he carefully placed at his feet.
A small nylon bag that he completely forgot about when he left the stage… and went off to sign copies of his new CD, while Ralph McTell started his set. What could we do? Paul and I joined the end of the queue for David’s CD, and fully twenty minutes later, David Hughes looked at our smiling faces, the penny dropped and he said a certain word. Just once, but with a lot of feeling.
As soon as Ralph’s set was over, he went back to retrieve Colin from the stage – but Colin couldn’t be found. An ashen-faced Hughes joined us and explained “I’ve had to tell Dave Pegg!” (the then Festival organiser) “He’s closed the site down, nothing leaves or arrives until we’ve found Colin. And he can’t stop laughing.”
Colin was found in a dressing room about half an hour later, to everyone’s relief. The story, though, didn’t end there.
The next morning, Saturday, we met David Hughes again. “Peggy’s telling everyone who goes backstage! He’ll never let me forget it,” he moaned. “But Colin’s finally made it – he’s a Cropredy legend!” Later that evening, after the Festival had ended, someone nipped round to our tents with an invitation for Colin to join the backstage party, and a couple of invites for Paul and me. Colin went back to his family the next day, and that, I thought, was that.
Until the following weekend, when Colin was the entire front page story in the Banbury Guardian.
And the weekend after that, when Colin made page 6 of the News of the World. For the next few months, the story of the fan who didn’t let a little thing like death stop him going to his favourite festival cropped up in papers all over the world. Over a year later, the BBC made a radio programme about the Cropredy Festival, and yes, Colin’s story was mentioned.
It was during the autumn of 2003 that I had a call from David Hughes. Fairport Convention had been so intrigued and amused by the events that they’d commissioned him to write them a song commemorating the whole thing. He wanted to check that Colin’s family wouldn’t be offended, and after Paul had made some enquiries, we were able to reassure him that they were all for Colin being remembered in song.
And this is the song…
<Where Is Colin?>
At Cropredy 2004, Colin’s ashes were discreetly scattered. You won’t find a memorial anywhere on the field, but there’s some of him by the bar, some down the front, some by Jonah’s Oak and a little everywhere.
So that’s the tale of Colin, the Fairport fan who finally made it on to the stage at Cropredy, who closed down the entire festival for half an hour, made the papers all around the world and is remembered forever in a Fairport song. He, truly, would never have believed it. But you can – because I was there and I saw it all.
I’ll be back next month with another story behind the song, but probably not one that I was personally involved with. Until then – Fare Thee Well!
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