Summer means one thing. Well, lots of things, among which are chilled wine outside, horrendous tube travel and being exposed to more London body odour than usual. But the MAIN thing for me is festivals.
I let my Glasto ticket go this year for various reasons (Don't. Ask.), but I booked some other festivals instead. Because I'm now a bone fide Londoner, I have easy access to the city festivals. Days for middle-class types who think they're 'hip' and attend open air music events, but at the end of the day would like to sleep in a bed and use a proper, clean toilet. Fair enough. They do unfortunately also attract scallies. People who aren't that arsed about the music but figure it's an excuse to get off your tits on cider and narcotics outside, go topless (mainly the blokes) and generally behave like a bit of a yobby nob.
I went to Wireless with The Foodie, The German and some of The Foodie's friends. Despite the not-proper-festival-goers and the chavs, it was a fun day out and we saw UNKLE, 2 Many DJs and LCD Soundsystem among others.
This weekend just gone, I attended my only 'proper' festival this year. Ie, full-on camping. Portaloos. Being lost in a field. Being accosted by a friendly but MUNTED individual at four AM in the camp site who's on about the pink rabits and the universe, man. Lounge on the Farm is a lovely local festival I've been attending for years and is getting some major recognition and acts playing. Over the years there I've seen Mr Scruff, the xx, Quantic, Syd Arthur, Mystery Jets, Roots Manuva, Scroobius Pip and lots of others that I cannot recall. This year I didn't see as much music as normal as I was working for The Greek in a restaurant in The Meadows field but I did see Slow Club and the bloody magnificent Toots & The Maytals who I thought did a wicked set. Live reggae played by legends in a cowshed after you've had about eight pints - what's not to like?
So, things I learned at LOTF this year:
I never, ever have an easy time packing - but then once I am there can rarely be arsed to get changed anyway.
I ALWAYS get ridiculous farmer-style sunburn literally within the first hour of arriving. Even if it's grey and rainy.
During the late-night gatherings at smaller stages, or round a campfire, there's always a mash up individual who *thinks* they're some sort of bongo wizard and drums incessantly. They're normally not very good, but sufficiently have their senses altered to believe that the noisy offbeat tapping is some sort of primal rhythm.
There's always some dazed people wandering around in grubby animal costumes the day after the festival has finished.
Drinking cider with breakfast is PERFECTLY acceptable at festivals.
I am getting old, and every year exclaim HOW MANY TEENAGERS ARE IN ATTENDANCE!?
Despite my trepidation every time, I cope remarkably well with kipping in a tent and actually actively enjoy brushing my teeth in a field under the stars.
The toilets aren't actually as bad as you think they'll be. But maybe I was just lucky.
So, two festivals out of three this month are done. I'm making the most of Lovebox being down the road from my house and attending that this weekend. Let's hope it's mainly nice people and doesn't attract the stabby, shooty teenage Hackney types. If they're reading this, just chill out yeah?
