Waking up in this hot tent this morning, I suddenly realised I haven’t preloaded a blog for today. It’s the end of the festival, and all around me people are slowly but busily taking down their tents. There are snatches of song and laughter, the clink of tent pegs, the cries of children, and friends shouting requests to friends. “Does anyone have a beer?” is one of them, and it’s half nine in the morning.

I think it’s 8 consecutive years that I’ve found myself in this field, and for 5 of them I have camped in the exact same spot. Here, on top of the hill. In the morning the sun chases me from my tent and I roll into swimming costume and go leap in the lake to start my day. Somehow, when I’m here, I can party hard all day and then wake up the next morning and start again.

And it’s been a hell of a party. I’m covered in the ruins of glitter and facepaint. My fingernails look like I’ve dug my way out of my own grave. And I feel fantastic, in a tired but rounded way. Here I have been – here I am, with some extremely close friends – people whose influence and light in my existence have woven their way into my whole being. Every year at this time I have felt much the same. Enervated and yet exhausted if I look too deeply. My tent is an explosion of shoes and spiders and beads and hats and clothes and glowsticks and water bottles. Last night, at the end of the night, I reached into my pocket and found my tarot deck, and immediately it seemed imperative that I sat in a corner and read the cards of all the fucked people that were curious. And there was hunger there. People are so in need of a frame to listen to themselves and to untie the knots they have put into their thinking. Hopefully some of them will find help in the revelations these universal symbols awoke in them. For me? Well I’ll have to work out how to take this tent down. Then I suspect I’ll be herding cats into a people carrier and on a mission down to London. There’s nothing I really have to get back for, but I’d like to be back by evening so I can go to Secret Cinema. It might be touch and go though. Years of past experience have taught me that it takes a long time for people in the state we are in to get organised.

I’ll try to break down what was beautiful about this year over the course of the day to come. The festival is exponentially bigger than it was when I first stumbled on it to do “Bugs”, a cue script play in a tent with some of The Factory lovelies.

Anyway. I’m exhausted and happy and I’m going to start working. I doubt I’ll be able to upload a picture with this signal but I’ll try. Sorry it’s been erratic with timing and the autoshare isn’t working. Internet is too crap here.


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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