Festival

“It’s ten pounds to charge a phone,” says the woman walking behind me. Here I am again at Wilderness Festival, my eighth year running. Middle class hippies in Oxfordshire. A friendly festival where you can spend £85 on a meal in a tent. I have always found a way to work here. For 8 years I’ve been walking through these meadows for Just a few days in August. I find them to be quite magical, but perhaps that is also to do with the fact I’ve sewn so much happiness into these trees. It’s a relaxing place for me now. A few days of no responsibility. A chance to jump in the lake every morning. And I have my festival friends now. A little crowd of lovely humans. Some of us barely see one another in the intervening months and then we all wind down in a field.

It feels like the weather will be amazing. I bought an army surplus bivouac so I can camp out under the stars if it’s warm. I’ll try it tonight but I might get eaten alive. I have a wee tent for contingencies as well.

I’ve spent most of the day sorting shit out for other people. I think I’m about to do a bit more carrying but I’m kind of fine with that. Once everyone is in and safely happily camping together then I’m going to start allowing myself to chill out.

I wonder that I find it relaxing, sleeping in a noisy campsite, with no hot food on a gently deflating mattress for four nights. I like being able to jump into a lake first thing in the morning. But I could just go on holiday for that.

Some unpleasant and slightly patronising tout is cruising around the parking area trying to buy spare tickets. One of my friends has one but his energy is so dark we don’t want him on the site. This festival gets bigger every year. One year it might get too big but I’ll keep coming until then.

My friends have SO MUCH STUFF. It’s amazing for three nights. I’ll be glad of a lot of their goodies when the sun is shining, but right now I want to get into the festival, see if I can find something to eat, and start relaxing. I’ve been helping people and now it’s almost 11pm and it’s time for a bit of me. No more blog… I’ve sorted the next few days of this but thought I’d do this in the field. Stupid really, because the last thing I want to do right now is make coherent sentences…

 

Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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