Finally woke in my own bed. Got up and made scrambled eggs, hung out with Brian a few hours. Caught up, played games, Sunday morning. An early afternoon power nap and then into Bergman to drive to Oxfordshire. Lou has been at a festival. I was gonna give her a lift home tomorrow, but since I’m in the habit of finding my way past local security, we figured we should enjoy some of the last night together.
I was at this festival in 2020 right at the height of all the COVID madness and somehow they managed to persuade the government to let about 500 hippies come and wobble about in this park. I haven’t been back since, but I was a very happy hippy to have that moment. Local security were worse than I’ve ever known at a festival, as could be expected on that summer of separation. They brought conflict with them that put an edge on what would otherwise have been an unequivocally brilliant summer weekend, one of the lucky few. Lou and I shared Flavia’s bell tent and oh my lord it was freezing cold.
I only caught a few hours tonight, and it was recognisable but very very different. More than ten times the hippies. “This set didn’t exist when we were younger,” says Lou, and yes not on this scale surely… not with this economy. Eight or nine thousand people who have spent upward of £220 to be in a field with no booze for a weekend. Lovely August weekend, mind you. Green Man weekend. When I was working the festival circuit, it was always these August Festivals that carried the magic, when the summer is entrenched at last.
I fit right in to walk past security at the right place. I’d thrown a shawl over a ripped T-shirt, kept on my knackered boots and filthy cargo shorts. I look absolutely exhausted just like everyone else. It’s very much the opposite vibe to the job I’ve just come away from… Loads of drifting people wandering past people talking about. If your basic needs are catered for it’s easier to look towards the luxuries, like self realisation. Loads of these people are minted. But they don’t drink and they’re lovely. Better than the lager lager lager lager shouting mega mega white thing set I hauled myself into adulthood with.
We stayed long enough to be at the front of a kirtan, “Hindu Karaoke,” loads of people singing and breathing and dancing together and a healing thing to be part of even if I wasn’t supposed to be there.
Now it’s past 2am, but we decided to still go back to Lou’s. Roads are quiet on a Sunday and her tent and mattress only really does one. Neither of us fancied a cold and rough night, we are both knackered. So a late night drive instead and now a peaceful sleep by the sea.
AlBarclay 