Fester-val

Today I'm going to a 4 day music festival. I got my ticket at the very last minute. I am not travelling with anyone, and I am not meeting anyone there. I am effectively going on my own, purely for the fantastic line-up. Surely this wouldn't be something I'd ever want to repeat? Well, the thing is, I'm getting a heavy dose of deja-vu. Because I did the exact same thing for a music festival last year. And out of a field of thousands of people, I  coincidentally met someone I knew. And I got on pretty well with a bunch of strangers too. I'm a little doubtful I'll have the same luck this year, but I'm just going to put my optimistic face (which very rarely comes out) and wear my newly purchased Wellington boots, which looked a lot less gay in the shop.

This is quickly going to be a familiar sight with all that
poorly cooked, over priced festival cuisine

If you've never been to a music festival, it's hard to sum up with one word. If you pick the right one, it can mean seeing a fuck load of bands you really like, live (which I'm not going to go on about, I made a post about it before). And part of the excitement is seeing a band you've never really listened to and being really impressed (probably my favourite way of discovering new music). However, 50% of the goings on has nothing to do with the music. The campsite itself cannot really be described as such. The word campsite reminds me middle aged couples enjoying salmon sandwiches and flushing toilets as they gaze onto a lake in their £500 waterproof jackets. It would more accurate to say it is a world outside reality. With little in the way of police, there's a lot of drug taking and peeing everywhere. The madness is hardly a utopia, but it's an amazing social experience nonetheless, if you can avoid certain groups of people. The forecast is set to be rain all weekend, so hygiene levels are going to be particularly low (the only time I showered last year was to get piss out of my hair that had been thrown in a bottle during Rage Against the Machine's set). And just before I leave, I can see that it's beginning to rain already, which can only be a good omen.

Sorry if this was a lazy post, I'm rushing to type this just as I head out the door. The festival is T in the Park by the way, it's got less hard rock acts than I'd like, but I'm pretty excited about seeing a lot of the bands. Have a nice weekend, and thanks for reading!

Mein Kamp

Outside my window, the sky is the colour of white socks that have been worn for one day too many which can only mean one thing - summer in Scotland. To be fair we have had a fair bit of sunshine so far, but today I'm just being gently reminded that this isn't going to be a particularly warm summer, just in case any little niggles of delusion managed to seep into my head. And here comes the rain as I type this. Time to bring in the washing. I'm sitting here in my parent's house with solid walls and a roof over my head, and I'm actually pretty grateful for it. No, I've not just watched a harrowing documentary about some family in Ethiopia that has to live in a raw sewage pipe and eat glass for breakfast. I'm not long back from a jolly little camping trip.

An accurate representation of what going
 to the toilet looked like during our camp

I abso-bloody-lutely love camping. It's an experience that reassures you that you have not been completely softened into mush from our electric tin opener and deluxe iced tea maker culture. Although it is slightly embarrassing to explain to other people.
So you had fun camping?
Yeah, it was great!
So what exactly did you do?
Well we burned stuff on the fire and drank a lot
And?
Uhm...
Talking about how much you admired the beautiful scenery only makes you sound like an elderly relative that spends their remaining days staring out the window collecting stamps. And talking about how you felt closer to nature just sounds like you've just unchained yourself from the gates of a coal power plant. Both of which will inevitably make eyes roll. So I can't really sell this whole thing very well. But I really recommend the experience for getting to know folk on a better level than you would in any other situation. That is, as long as you don't mind pooping in the woods, pulling blood sucking parasites out of your body, and generally not encountering many ways to set your adrenaline flowing. Oh, and if the people you are camping with are twats, then the whole experience is going to be shite.

I realise now that anyone reading this blog has completely lost faith in me, but I'm going to try and continue even if it's just for me. I'm in the process of finding jobs and work experience, and I'm back at my parents for the summer. Which isn't depressing as I initially thought, I have a few nights of drinking sorted  and my mother  is under the amusing impression that I'm 'seeing girls'. If anyone is reading this, then thanks, really.