Festival No.6 – Portmeirion 2013 (Sunday)
It’s noon, it’s Sunday, we’ve battened down the hatches. Aaron and Kate are our neighbours from Brixton. Kate’s tent has been decimated by the weather, the fly sheet is flapping like a green flag in the gale force wind. Aaron and myself run repairs while she sleeps inside, oblivious to the carnage going on outside. We retreat to our own tents to weather the storm… And this is a storm… The Estuary Stage has already been closed today – the elements are pounding it straight off the sea… Unoccupied tents have been blown and are pinned up against the campsite perimeter fence. Armageddon is upon us, I knew I should have prayed at Sunday School… Now we sit in our canvas tombs and wait for the Four Horsemen of The Apocalypse to take us all…
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As a hardened Glastonbury veteran (though after a long 22 year hiatus, I’m distinctly soft around the edges!) I really didn’t know what to expect from my very first V Festival. Would I be raving down the front with my top off, hurling plastic glasses of cider at Rhianna and vomiting into someone else’s rucksack back at the tent? Or searching for some comfortable seating to people watch, looking like someones dad come to pick them up early from a party, remarking on the quality of the falafel and the surprising availability of marinated olives? Well, turns out it was a little bit of both and, don’t put that sandwich down just yet, I didn’t puke!
