Sunday, 17 July 2011

All dressed up and nowhere to go

Yesterday was a complete festival disaster. I stayed at home and watched Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone while the intrepid mountain man that is my husband stayed through a deluge until just past 5 pm when he arrived home, wet, despondent and having wasted pretty much a whole day and all for £30.

After a night where the rain continued to fall in torrents until well into the early morning we awoke to sunshine and made our decision that we would both go to the festival, but in separate cars so that I could come away when I needed to walk the dog without compromising any of his activities.

I got dressed in my festival gear, which comprises jeans and a rather nice long tie dye t-shirt, that I bought from Tesco's last year for the very same festival and that a younger person could probably wear as a dress but quite frankly would make me very much mutton, and the ubiquitous wellies. A small rucksack filled with wet gear, dry gear, something to eat and drink and a bit of money and I was ready for the off.

Rowchester is a mere 15 minutes away and yet in that time we headed from the bright sunshine of our Borders village into the murk and mire of the one down the road. The rain, it seemed, had not left that area at all, and as we drew nearer to the festival we had to pull over for the droves that were leaving down the single track roads. Not a good sign. Then as we got to the gates it became increasingly obvious that my little Honda, with its low profile body and tires would probably not get much further than a few feet beyond the gate as the mud had well and truly set in. By this time it was pouring with rain. A quick decision that my festival stint was over before it started and I would head back home to get some work done while the intrepid man, together with his trusty 4 wheel truck, would stay and see.

On the way home, as I neared our village, I could actually see the dividing line where we were bathed in sunshine and Rowchester was cast into the gloom.

A quick phone call ascertained that quite a few festival folk had left last night and the remainder were in the process of leaving this morning. They were wet and many tents had died a death in the awful weather, poor people, and as there was no chance of the rain letting up had called it a day. Gritting his teeth the man himself stayed on, but given that the only people left were the bands and their families it became rapidly apparent that the festival was a complete disaster for all concerned and so my Beloved helped out for a while before returning home to the summer weather, where he found me, still in my festival clothes, knee deep in a CD production line for a group I'm running in a few weeks.

In order to make the very best of what could just be a weather blip in our village, we have made yet another decision for today. We'll head off to the community woodland to walk in the sunshine. Wellies will undoubtedly be needed, but I'm going to chance it and leave my wet weather gear at home, and poor Nell who is, I think, rather confused at the comings and goings and strange clothes, will be mightily glad that all is back to normal.

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