Where creativity rules and all the world’s a stage

American singer-songwriter Jakob Dylan summed it up rather neatly when he paused between slick and comforting country numbers to tell the gathered throng of his amazement on waking up at Port Eliot after an overnight drive on the tour bus. “Usually we’re parked next to a dumpster; this morning it was a castle!”

Well, it’s not strictly a castle, but the Cornish house and estate of Lord and Lady St Germans certainly possesses all the fairytale enchantment and suspension of disbelief associated with such a romantic domain. There’s nothing quite like greeting the day by stepping out into such beautiful and intimate environs in the knowledge that there’s a feast of bonhomie and eclectic creativity right on your doorstep.

It’s also one of the most welcoming places on the planet, where even an 8am stumble in giant sweater, wellies and sunglasses to buy a morning cuppa can lead to stimulating conversation and instant friendship. Plus it has some of the best festival grub you can fill your belly with, from River Cottage Cafe fare, Gujarati vegetarian thali, Sporeboys’ risotto, succulent seafood, sweet, plump cakes and a good old egg and bacon fry-up breakfast.

At Port Eliot Festival there’s a stage around every corner, whether it’s in the intimacy of the stunning Round Room, the genteel garden party vibe of the Walled Garden, the wild abandon of the Caught by the River area, the children’s fantasia of the House of Fairytales, the buzz of the circus-style cabaret tent or simply a circle of children watching each other turn somersaults on the lawn. Then there was the new Idler tent where you could learn to be everything from shaking cocktails to keeping bees to, well... being an idler. The Twentyfive Tent, run by Rogue Theatre’s Angelina Boscarelli and Ollie Oakenshield, hosted back to back performances by genuinely talented local youngsters for 12 hours a day.

With so much to choose from I decided to go where the wind took me. Without intending to bypass the literary side of the menu, I was led by the heartstrings towards the wealth of musical offerings. Rather than going for big named headliners, Port Eliot harnesses the up-and-coming, the crossover crews, the quirky, the re-emerging, and the good-time guys, providing an up close and personal experience. I kicked off my feast with Ed Harcourt, a long-time favourite. Up in the Bowling Green marquee, Harper Simon had a struggle trying to replicate the sound of his terrific debut album without his backing band, but was warmly welcomed nevertheless.

Cherry Ghost were nothing short of superb at the Heavenly Records’ curated Caught by the River enclave, where the bar sold Sharps’ delicious Cornish Orchards cider which became my chosen tipple for the weekend. And AJ’s Big Band took me into the wee small hours with the good old days tunes of Glenn Miller and co.

Saturday morning found me admiring the truly wonderful and tremendously weird entries – with categories like

There were long queues for the Biba Ba Luba Fashion Tent, of which more in our Woman section on Monday, and swimmers went wild in the muddy estuary under the guidance of expert Kate Rew.

An open mic event at the University College Falmouth Profwriting tent offered everything from a strangely sincere young lady giving a rendition of AC/DC’s

House band Louis Eliot and the Embers were on fine form in the cabaret tent – complete with Louis’s little girl and friends on dance routines – to warm the Saturday evening crowd for Jakob Dylan and his very polished US guitarists and backing vocalists. Down by the riverside Fionn Regan rocked his socks off, backed by the lovely Danny and the Champions of the World, before Gaz Mayall’s fantastic DJ set kept me up until silly o’clock.

Sunday’s early start was a complete contrast and found me in darkness lying on the floor in the Round Room experiencing Christ Watson’s Dusk Until Dawn, sounds recorded on the estate over an eight-hour period, edited down into a hypnotic 40-minute performance piece. Elsewhere, at the Festival Bookseller a steady stream of authors talked to readers and signed copies of their books; transvestite artist Grayson Perry rode in on his motorbike, and Horizon award winner Sam Carter beguiled us with his simple, direct folk songs of unrequited love, changing fortunes, growing up.

It was a rare treat to witness sensitive singer songwriter Tom Baxter joined by his partner Lily Fraser, and Jarvis Cocker broadcasting his 6Music Sunday Service radio show from the cabaret tent, with guests including wild guitar man Wilko Johnson.

Port Isaac’s Fisherman’s Friends came armed with Billy Hawkin’s guitar and mandolin, and a guest accordion player, adding extra spice and some fresh songs to their terrific salty sea shanty collection.

And finally Justin Adams and Juldeh Camara combined rock guitar and traditional Gambian melodies and rhythms to whip the last night crowd into a dance frenzy.

Just as I was gasping for a beverage – and with a strict ban on cider, in preparation for the midnight drive home – the Tea Ladies came to my rescue with a cuppa from an urn on a trolley they’d been pushing up hill and down dale all weekend. “Any lumps?” asked the straight-faced flowery overalled char, indicating the china bowl of knobbly sugar cubes. I said no, thanks. “Sweet enough already, dear? How about a biscuit – broken ones don’t have any calories,” she purred, fake fag glimmering.

I didn’t want the weekend to end. Same time, same place next year? Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.