I’m writing to let you know that the Meredith Music Festival will not take place this year. 

Like much of the planet, life in Postcode 3333 must contend with a pandemic and adjust to a different beat, for the time being.

Which brings us to a break in regular programming. A rest. Something which, in itself, is not such an unusual part of the Supernatural trip.

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It’s a not so well-known fact that the very first Meredith Music Festival, planned for 1990, had to be postponed until ‘91. Something to do wth preparations being heavy on enthusiasm but light on finance, know-how, bands and a few other odds and ends. Mary and Jack politely suggested that kicking off with a fallow year might be the sensible thing to do.

Maybe it’s fitting that the 30th Meredith will have to cool its heels for a year as well.

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One thing this year has offered in spades is a sense of perspective. Looking back, looking ahead, looking all around, Meredith is, we think, in a really good place. The eternals – a single stage, the evolving atmospherics of a natural amphitheatre, ample time and space, free-range living in the greatest of outdoors, where almost anything goes – still hold. Thank you for being part of it.

We will continue to listen, to fix things if they don’t work, and not fix them if they do. To define and refine the purpose-built wonderland for when we can practise close contact, in grand union, again.

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Of course, there is that other light on the horizon, called Golden Plains, and we’ll update you on that as soon as we can.

It would be remiss of me not to ask, how are you doing? In good spirits, I hope, all things considered. Thanks to everyone who’s written to check in over recent months.

Any queries, at any time, about anything – my door is always open.

I can’t wait to see you again, on the slight incline of The Sup’.

Zoop doop,

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AMNPLIFY – DB