I, like many fools (oh you poor fools), believed in Uncle Richard Angwin when he said serious rain gear would be OTT. In the event my sturdy hiking boots started to let in some water. Magnus had the right idea and got us both to queue up for boots in the light rain not long after 10am. By about 11 we were near the front of the queue (which had doubled in size during that time), ankle deep in water, and growing more and more horrified as the shouts of “no more size 7s” “only 4s 6s and 8s” increased in frequency. Shuffling forward squelch by squelch, the cold, the shivering, the hangover (see later) and the feeling that “this misery will not end, ever” felt much like coming down from unimpressive but expensive drugs. Despite being a size 10, i persisted and we were fortunate to get to the front when a box or two of size 8s was pretty much all they had left. They fitted me perfectly. Thank you to the god of the confusing shoe size scale for making me this way! Though curse you if you were also the god responsible for the rain in the first place you massive arse of a deity you.
Somehow we managed to walk away with three pairs after paying for two. Sorry to the Joe Bananas massive. You can take the difference off the bastard who stole my folding stool last year.
Of course with dry feet, no actual rain any more now, and the freedom to splosh through the rising mud as the rain washed down the slopes, the misery drained away and perspective was regained. Those poor bastards with tents at the foot of the hill! shit.
Only one trough of fun, but many many little peaks of fun. New Order got my dancing started – though they were a bit meh in all honesty, that’s actually better than average of all the times I have seen em. I had a lot of fun by myself this year for the first time in ages. On a mission to dance all night (post NOrder) I tried the Lock Tavern, but it was miserable – uninspired music, tiny venue. A tiny breast-cancer-charity tent just down the track did a much better job – and amazingly Magnus spotted me in there and we danced til it was time to head off for the traditional sunrise with the hippies.
Other solo feats of fun included the very entertaining Bravery (i like poseur singers and cod rock’n'roll antics once in a while), and 2manydjs (surely cut off short at the end – PJ Harvey not really providing a great end-of-set moment for many DJ acts).
I am reliably informed that i had a great deal of fun on the thursday night, but I do not enjoy or revel in the fact that I can get roaring drunk and forget everything I do as a result. This is the wrong sort of fun. It makes me realise that if I met myself I’d hate me. I behave abominably. Perry is a bad bad drug, kids.