Wasn’t intending to go to the Huntly Hairst (Harvest) this year, as it started to appear on the list of ‘things-I-can’t-be-arsed-with-anymore’. The same stalls of oils, honeys, teas, soaps, terrible crafts by people who really should take up crosswords instead of spreading ugliness in the world, and home-made kombucha at a fiver a bottle, usually made by someone who looks like they haven’t washed. Angry wasps, angrier pensioners, parking sagas,...