Siren Call of Festival Season


It’s June. The sun is shining. And, thanks to a hundred magazine covers, I feel the urge to book tickets to a festival.

I know. It’s foolish. I am NOT a festival type of girl. I’m not even especially into music, let alone REALLY LOUD music. I’m not into camping and mud. I’m not into annoying people. And I’m especially not into portaloos. Especially on day 3 of a weekend of drunk/stoned people. It was once my misfortune merely to share a TRAIN with revellers coming back from Strawberry Fair. The carriages smelt ‘funny’ and the loo was filled with a pool of urine and vomit. And we’d just come back from Disneyland Paris. It was about as harsh a comedown as possible. Suddenly the Magic Kingdom seemed a very VERY long way away.

Yep, if I had trouble enduring 45 minutes of the festival lifestyle I doubt I’d enjoy a weekend of it.

And yet…

The thought of a day spent with children frolicking, a balmy evening, a crowd of voices chanting lyrics.

And it doesn’t have to be about music. A few years ago now we had a fabulous time at a Ben & Jerry’s festival. There was music, but I was more interested in eating as much free ice cream as possible.

Latitude has always appealed. Lots of fabulous comedy acts. Or Feastival, with loads of fantastic foodie stuff going on. I could definitely handle that.



I’d have to go with the kids. I know people claim that that’s all part of the fun. But really? Husband would dive off to do whatever HE wanted and I’d be stuck in the kids’ area watching Mr Tumble, instead of a post-Balamory Miles Jupp in the comedy tent. Or worse, I’d spend the day trailing after Noodles, who prefers to hang around outside the portaloos or sitting in muddy puddles. I would just end up angry and resentful that everyone else was having more fun than me.

It’s a bad idea, isn’t it?


Everywhere at the minute is screaming about which festival to go to and how to dress/who to see/what tent to sleep in whilst you’re there.

Elle are recommending the purchase of a pink plastic condom rain mac, if you’re interested – snip at £124!

I can’t help but feel tempted.

And yet, I know that no matter how much advice I took, I’d NEVER be this girl.


Plus there are other
Reasons Why I Should Very Definitely AVOID Festivals

• My thighs are too big for shorts, my calves too big for wellies.

• If I even tried to look like this:

people would laugh. (Although I dare say I’d have the last laugh if I didn’t try to fit in – how practical is a playsuit at a festival anyway? That thing’s going to dangle in the urine/vomit pool and how nasty is THAT going to be?)

• I may be younger than Kate Moss, but I would just look like the frumpy mum who’d be more at home, well, at home.

• There would be grown-ups in fairy wings, girls sitting on their boyfriend’s shoulder blocking my view and even if Jo Whiley/Fearne Cotton weren’t present there’d be plenty of Jo/Fearne wannabes/smug-a-likes. Essentially, there’d be LOTS of people I would want to slap/drown in the nearest muddy puddle.

• And the rest of the crowd would look like this:


• Despite all the sunny pictures of festivals past, it would definitely rain.

• I DONT do mud.


• And I DON’T do camping. I DEFINITELY don’t do camping with children. (It’s hard enough to get Noodles to sleep in a bed, let alone in a damp tent on a hard floor with the Kaiser Chiefs predicting a riot in the background.)

• Not that it would be the Kaiser Chiefs. I’ve actually heard of them. I’m so out of touch with music I would only recognise who was headlining if it was Edina Menzel warbling her way through the songs of Frozen or the acts had been booked ironically from the era of dodgy late 80s/early 90s pop.

• And then there’s the toilet situation and, to be honest, that’s usually enough to put me off.

And yet…

Life isn’t always about happy times. (Otherwise we’d never stay married or have kids – we’d all just live in girlie communes eating brownies and drinking wine.) No. Life is surely about coming together in adverse situations and finding some way to laugh about them (once the swearing has stopped). (Please don’t tell me that’s just my life?)

And then I found it! LOLLIBOP!

It may not earn me any cool points (outside of the CBeebies set) but who wouldn’t want to try out Harry’s Wizard School or Pirate Training School? Or go on a Scooby Doo adventure? Plus there are stars from some of Boo’s favourite programmes and Noodles would surely enjoy bashing around with Stomp (seeing as how at the Fairy Festival the other week he mostly enjoyed banging the barbecue).

And there’s NO need for CAMPING involved – we can be there and back in a day. WOOHOO!

Plus I could surely get away with wearing something from Joules and the only dungarees need be seen on tiny kids, which is really how things should be.


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