Grayson Perry Arrives at Port Eliot.

I'd been sitting outside the bar tent when a strange apparition rumbled into view, a small crowd gathered, including a BBC camera. I wandered over to take a look:



I met Grayson briefly later at the performers party where he was more formally dressed and again the following day sitting out on the grass in a summer frock and red shoes. He didn't come to hear my poems though. Never mind.