Monday, 18 October 2010

BESTIVAL 2008


Bestival 2008 (yes i know it is a little late!)


Living in the pretty drab city of Portsmouth does have a few perks, one being its location, in particular its closeness to the weirdo infested isle of white. Bestival was a festival that I had heard so much about as my bests friends had gone last year and “had the best time ever”, always seems to be the “best time ever” when I’m not included.. cheers guys. Anyway, like any event nowadays, we bought our bestival tickets about 9 months prior to the festival so by the time it arrived we had forgotten all about it and were completely unprepared. My mate Caz who had gone last year kept telling me that “in the history of bestival it had never rained” and that contrary to popular belief the “isle of white had its own weather” and even after extreme weather warnings she was reluctant to by a pair of wellys. Thankfully she did because as soon as we touched down on the Island it started to piss it down. We had arrived at the festival and were now awaiting the search and the thing we were all dreading the most…. the sniffer dogs. Me and my friends were terrified of sniffer dogs. I don’t know whether it was a drug induced paranoia or due to watching too many episodes of banged up abroad but we were all nervous as hell whilst we waited…. However all the effort of stuffing marijuana into shower gel paid off and we all made it… chuffed. The general consensus was to put our tents up first regardless of the pissing rain. Oh how I resented those types who had put their tent up like a pop up book. Me and my mate Char had the most old skool tent out of our gang. We had to feed the rods through the middle, clip the edges, hammer the nails in what felt like cold shower. Once the tent was finally up we jumped inside and it wasn’t for a good ten minutes that I realised my bag was sat outside of the tent drenched. I waved goodbye to any dry clothes or warmth. It was at this point that it felt like we were filming a budget English version of Lost. AND this was before I had even discovered the poo hole that constituted a toilet. However the show must always go on and so did the rain… but after 2 days and a heavy dose of “tent fever” the weather cleared and we managed to leave our paper thin plastic abode. The festival was either covered in mud or a brown poo-like substance you could never tell. On the hike towards the stages I wondered how many people had imagined how good it would have been if the mud was actually chocolate!

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