Earlier this month, I attended my first Jack-In-The-Green festival, which is held yearly in my new home of Hastings. It’s a brilliant day – a huge figure, made out of leaves, flowers and twigs, is hauled through the Old Town, then up onto the West Hill, overlooking the sea. After a huge parade of sinister dancers, drummers, people in animal costumes and seriously spooky outfits has passed across the lawns, he’s pulled apart and scattered among the crowds. Some of the creations were seriously impressive (and a bit scary), and the day felt primal and stirred up some strange emotions. My four-year-olds were down the front, baying for bits of the dismembered man, I was a little bit drunk, nodding along behind them to the incessant drumbeats. I cannot wait for next year.