Festivals are bizarre. Thousands of people trapped in a field, pretending to have fun. The experience is utterly weather dependent and today we can’t depend on the weather. I’m waiting once more for the people I’m working with. It’s going to be another slow start, but festivals and work are a bit like oil and water for some people. We will make it work.
We did. Today was mostly about managing crazy children. Now I’m back at the campsite and about to change and go out for the evening. I’m using this time in a field to properly unwind. It’s a strange way to unwind. The nights are freezing cold, there is constant noise, you have to stumble through nettles to have a pee. On the site thousands of people crush together in queues for nothing much that take hours. But I have good friends here now, and I feel a part of these woods now having been here so many consecutive years. This year I’m on antibiotics and my rib is still not ideal which limits the extent of what I can do. But I’m still planning on going in and seeing some lovely things this evening, and dancing as much as my rib will let it.
I just put my phone down. “I’m not feeling it. I want to get into the festival now and unwind. But I know that if I don’t write this now I’ll never get it done.” “Do you have to write much?” says Mel. “Just write a paragraph and have done with it.” Good shout, I say. I will probably write up this whole experience properly once it’s finished.