Again, being long before the days of cell phones, we had no way of knowing what had happened, so we waited. What had happened, and now we really should have learned to avoid Luton vans, was that Rick had taken a bend too quickly somewhere on the A50 and flipped the hire van, it had run over a some distance before stopping to the side. . In the back were not only a few tons of speakers, amps and turntables, but also several human beings. I think in the end luckily only Phil and Rob were in the back and they came out shaken and mostly unscathed. The real luck is that our friend Tamsin and her young daughter Jelly had planned to sit in the back box as well but canceled at the last minute. I thank the Lord. Incredibly, the AA sent a tow truck which managed to get the van back on four wheels, they all got back together and Rick drove the van to the party, arriving to a hero’s welcome. Now it’s dedication to the cause. I also made a mental note that we really needed to have our own truck.

With the final piece in place, the party got underway and continued through Sunday evening without any interference from the police. Maybe the sound truck miracle had given everyone an extra spiritual boost and the parties always seemed wilder in the sun, but it was a truly glorious night and day. People were on every available space, loudspeakers, buses, lighting platforms; anywhere to dance. And how we danced, devoid of the boredom or exhausted cynicism that inevitably plague moves like this eventually; danced like untamed pagans, which is pretty much what we were. It was also the zenith of what became known as “high tunes”, happy and anthemic tracks that were just perfect for days like this. I have a lasting memory of Simon dropping Rozalla’s “Everybody’s Free,” with its huge opening strings, elegiac vocals, and big dirty beats sometime on Sunday morning and the place erupted. On nights like these, we were collectively so high, in every possible way, and so blissfully, almost religiously elated, that I think once you experienced it, once you suffered this almost holy communion, life could never be the same again. People kissed endlessly; hugged friends, hugged strangers, hugged trees and sometimes tried to kiss the police. With age and hindsight, it was perhaps somewhat naive and almost chemically contrived, but by God it felt good at the time.

Our dance floors were the pinnacle of egalitarian democracy, a community space where everyone is equal; where women could dance without inhibitions and without being groped or offered by predatory men. The dance created a space in which you could succumb to the sensuality and rhythm of the music and do your thing, strange as that might be considered by mainstream society. I had grown up going to concerts all the time, usually to spend about an hour watching people, almost always men, play instruments on stage while drinking hot lager from a plastic cup. At many of these gigs, people, again mostly men, mosh up front, which is a euphemism for pushing and fighting drunk and inherently macho.

For us, the concerts now seemed archaic and obsolete, the old bands like dinosaurs. Our parties lasted at least twelve hours, often days. “Seventy-two hours of revelers,” to quote one sympathetic reporter. There were no stars, no hero worship, DJs were mostly invisible, and dancers faced in all directions. The parties were free, they drew eclectic and energetic crowds who would never have mixed socially or geographically before, and under the stars we danced together in our church, our temple, a mobile temple without walls or barriers. Life, it is said, is not a search for happiness but a search for belonging and we have felt this brave new belonging so deeply that three decades later people still eagerly discuss these holidays and festivals and this feeling of wonder at what we have accomplished provided the motivation to write this book. It was a fascinating story, enriching for the participants, but completely unknown to the media at the time.

dream in yellow by Harry Harrison is available now through Velocity Press. You can buy the book directly from VP here.