If you ask him for the source of his passion about the value of fundamental research, he starts talking about Einstein, who turned down a request to become the president of Israel because "politics is for today, science is for always". For Graham, the capacity for science to "do something for mankind" means it shoud be supported, something he says that Americas and Europeans seem to understand instinctively much better than Australians. He cites the views of US cancer expert Richard Klausner that "the expression of the creativity of scientists" requires more than "well disposed appropriations committees" We need a society that "truly values science and the scientists, much as Renaissance Florence valued its art and artists", he says. Klausner and Graham want scientists to "tell their stories" particularly to children, so we wil realise that "the achievements of science are the achievements of our age".

This extortion could well be the mission statement for the festival, which is offering platforms such as story telling at 180 events in Canberra and is expected to attract 150,000 people, including thousands of school and tertiary students. (My personal contribution this year was to join teenage solo sailor Jesse Martin on a Navy Seahawk helicopter and be lowered over Lake Burley Griffin to open the festival and start the Bayer Solar Advanced Technology Boat Race.)

Forensic science is popular these days on television police dramas and is getting plenty of expert coverage at the festival. Forensic entomologist Ian Dadour, of the University Of Western Australia, will explain how his work helps solve crimes. Professor Dadour with a body that has been dead for a week and he can give a time of death within a six-hour range. "The biology of flies is extremey predictable," he says.

His capacity to study and interpret the effects of insect activity on bodies has proved so useful that he now works full-time for the police. He began with an Australian Research Counci grant and, as a result, Western Australia leads the field in this country. Dadour laments the fact that some states are not using the techniques, which have become a daily part of police work in the United States. His talk this weekend on "maggots and the justice system", (which will look at the fly life-cycle, maggot mass and the interaction of insects with a corpse) may not be to everyone's taste. But this committed entomologist says "many crimes can be solved forensically these days". Understanding his work is essential for investigators at crime scenes.

James Robertson, of the Australian Federal Police, will also bring a forensic focus to his festival talk tomorrow. Originally an agricultural botanist, he is now an expert on hair and fibres with a passion for human rights. He will discuss a case where fibres from a blanket and a carpet helped police apprehend a man responsible for violent robberies in Adelaide. He will also outline DNA techniques he is developing to help solve drug cases. But he won't just focus on forensic work in developed countries. He is part of a project in Gaza to help Palestinians establish a forensic laboratory with support from the human rights group Australian Legal Resources International. Forensic science underpins the rule of law by providing vital physical evidence and expert interpretation" he says.

In keeping with the "lean, hungry" aspect of rural life, this festival was organised on the smell of an oily rag by literacy consultant Cathy Welsford and university lecturer Angie Smith. There was a big, sell-out show with 700 bums on seats at which famous blow-in guests from coastal cities mixed it with the talented locals - who delighted the hometown crowd by holding their own. Smaller events gave less experienced performers a chance to show their wares. And throughout the progran there were training workshops in theatre sports and comdy writing and performing.

Indeed, one of the popular performers, Marie Grantun, a local mother of four presenting her first professional comedy routine, was a comedy workshop graduate. Her observations on the Aussie vernacular - from the perspective of a black-haired Swedish migrant who spends most of her life in this country trying to convince us that half the Swedish population are NOT blonde - were sharp, fuvny and a real crowd pleaser.

When cafe manager Kirsten Adams - from nearby Uralla, famous for its gold-rush bushranger Captain Thunderbolt - delivered another confident stand-up routine, we all began to think there wasn't only gold to be found in these hills. There's a rich vein of performance capacity as well. To prove the point, a 17-year-old schoolgirl, Diana Smith from PLC (one of many educational institutions in this town which also hosts the University of New England), got up and presented an original comedy monologue. Her success elicited hoots of rowdy delight from the pack of schoolmates and teachers squashed onto one side of the stage with musical instruments. They contributed cool jazz stings throughout the two-hour show.

I haven't even mentioned the local musical society's contribution, whose soloist brought tears to my eves with the beauty of her voice. To my eternal shame I assumed she'd been flown from a professional company to bolster their performance. It turned out Donna Wainahu was the nursing unit manager in the local hospital's children's ward. Then there was a pack of tap dancers ranging in age from 25 to an alarmingly energetic 75. Their routine was so sexy, they reckoned one of the troupe was pregnant and more would be by dawn.

Frankly, you were left with the impression that the local halls are packed every night of the week with enthusiasts singing, dancing, playing music and performing their hearts out. And motherhood appears to be no barrier. The five women in the comedy environmentalist group, Tree Loss Lantana, had 11 children between them. Their husbands, who usually play the instruments, were home with the kids so their mates could be part of this first-ever women's comedy festival.

By the time the young local with the big-mama voice, Emily Jane, led all the performers back on stage to sing the Supremes' anthem Stop In The Name Of Love, with synchronised hand movements of course, there wasn't a dry eye in the house from the laughter and sheer joyous release.

This week I was invited to join an Australia Council committee to offer my two bob's worth on how to make the arts more welcoming and inclusive, and how to create more entry points for participation and encourage excellence. I thought a lot about the Armidale mob at my first meeting. That festival united disparate community and artistic elements in a truly inclusive series of events. It was the birth of a festival you'll hear about again.

But it isn't just the arts that will call me back to the high country where Judith Wright has taught recorder to school students. The home-made sweeties served up by the PLC parents at interval could fill a theatre on their own.