Anyway, today I wanted to share with you my recent (and may I add, last) experience of camping. I didn't sleep in a tent voluntarily it was for the purpose of a festival but nevertheless I am in no hurry whatsoever to violate my human rights ever again.
Now, it wasn't my first time at this festival, I went last year. And now that I think back I did spend the majority of the time in tears after just breaking up from a long term relationship, having all my belongings soaked and covered in mud, and being in denial about the size of my feet. So I must not have been thinking straight when I agreed to go again. Don't get me wrong, when the sun's out and you're loving life with your friends it would be the best weekend of your life. Until you're pissing on the floor in front of strangers and you can't find your pink bear because your friend Mandy stole him.
We were all in high spirits, we'd had a curry and a few bevs the night before we drove there. We all had a shower, put on our well thought out festival attire in the morning. We'd spent £70 each on a pair of wellies which let's face it, we'll never wear again. We'd even persuaded our guy mates to erect (lol) our tent for when we got there.
For any of you who have been to a festival before, you'll understand that the walk from the car to the entrance is probably the most horrific ordeal you will ever encounter. Especially when you're not allowed to leave the site once you enter, so you have to take EVERYTHING with you. So try to imagine four girls hauling our ridonk bags of clothes, airbeds, sleeping bags, gallons of bottles of vodka and camping chairs approximately 2 miles over wet, muddy, uphill ground. Safe to say having a shower that morning was utterly pointless as I looked like a fat girl in a disco by the time someone had strapped a wristband round my arm. Which I'm just going to say - can be removed once you leave a festival. So for all you sad, sad people that leave them on. Please get a life.
By this point our 'Bags for Life' were well and truly dead and I was dragging/throwing along 4 x 2 Litre bottles of water. Well 2 were water, 2 were vodka and I couldn't tell which ones were which, so like the trooper I am I picked them up (along with my other 76500 bags) covering my sweaty white t-shirt (stupid decision I know) in mud. My friend Emma was close to having a nervous breakdown at this point. It was very sunny and all I can say is we were all very moist.
Now, I'm not going to lie the Saturday was unreal. I laughed a lot.
Saturday night is a different story. It started raining at about 8pm. Fine. We went in the big tents to see Benga, Skrillex, Annie Mac etc. However, the rain didn't stop until 11am the following morning. And I'm not just talking about a drizzle here. I'm talking cats and dogs, tigers and dingos, the type of rain that when you're lying there absolutely soaked because your tents leaking and trying to cuddle your friend that you think the tent is going to be ripped in half. Rain where you don't sleep AT ALL because it sounds like you're in downtown Baghdad and you're getting shot at. Rain when you can hear a river running past your tent. When you look outside and half the people who were there the night before have left. I don't handle being cold well, and for a good 20 minutes I was screaming. I'M GOING HOME. THIS IS A JOKE. I AM BEING VIOLATED. GET ME FUCKING AIRLIFTED OUT OF THIS FUCKING FIELD. Essentially, I was being my usual bratty self. I was checking where the nearest hotels were to check in to, I text my friends to come and get me. But eventually, we realised I was on my friends insurance so could actually drive myself home. So yes, me and Emma (who was on the verge of having her 2nd breakdown in 24 hours) bailed. And never in my whole entire life was I so happy to get home.
So what I'm really looking forward to is travelling round the world and staying in hostels in South East Asia.
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