Post by Catfood on Sept 10, 2005 0:44:29 GMT -5
Wednesday/Thursday:
The plan is to get to Kev's for 10ish, so that we can watch Lost, load up the cars and go. This goes wrong spectacularly within 30 seconds as we get halfway down the road and Mark has lost his phone. This kinda sets the tone for his weekend. Anyway his phone is found and we're off again. Within minutes of being on the road, my phone is ringing, Kev wants to know if there is anyone who wants to buy a ticket. One of my friends have pulled out because they're "ill". Anyway we get to Kev's, picking up Vic on the way, load up the cars and go. The party this year is pretty much the same as last, me, my brothers, Mark and Mathew, Kev, Rob and Vic, plus festival newcomers, Rob H and Cherie(I think is how her name is spelt). Carl and Adam have had to settle for Leeds this year.
Kev, who I'm supposed to be following again, races off without a second thought as I settle for a more sedate pace. We meet at South Mimms for a short rest and are off again, I follow the wrong car and take the wrong motorway, getting totally lost but finally managing to get to Reading. From here on in, it should be easy, show our tickets to the people and park up. Nothing is that easy.
I show the tickets to the SS bloke, who suddenly says "Who's smoking weed?" I try to explain that none of us in the car smoke it, which is true. This is not good enough for the guy who makes me get out of the car and threatens to search it. Trying to be helpful, I ask which bit of the car he wants to search, like if he wanted to search the boot, I would open the boot. The genius answers with "the car". Great, not only is this guy a prick, he's a moron as well. He calls one of his mates over, explains the situation and the new guy sticks his head in the car and has a sniff. He can't smell anything. Not happy with this second opinion, he calls a third person over for another opinion. Again nothing. A forth person is called over and again, this person can't smell anything. Victory is mine, for all of 2 seconds before he starts on me about glass bottles. I wouldn't have minded so much, but the car with the stoners in it was simply waved through. The guy pissed me off.
Anyway, we get parked up head to the campsite and grab ourselves the same bit of land as last year, though this time we set the tents up so that crappy neighbours can't get that close to us. To be fair, all our neighbours were pretty cool this year. So with that we get started on the drinking, which is pretty cool as it starts to get light. Rob's declaration that he isn't going to drink anything until 10 at night lasts less time than Kev's self imposed drink ban at Download. I even smoke some weed, just to spite the twat at the gate. I half expected him to come running over shouting "I FUCKING KNEW IT!"
The drinking continues until 12ish, Cherie instigates a game called "Buffalo", which to be fair really should have been explained before we got drunk as the rules were far to complicated to remember. We buy laminates and booklets, have a long winded rant about how Hatebreed shouldn't be above Bad Religion and me Mathew and Vic decide to go and get tagged. After that, tiredness takes over and I decide to have a little sleep.
I wake up during a raging thunderstorm, which goes great with my pounding headache. But at least, my tent didn't leak and the rain that we do get doesn't turn Reading into the swamp that it was last year. Mark decides to go and get his wristband, but his ticket has disappeared. He knows where he put it, he showed us before he went to sleep, which makes me think that someone saw where he stuck it and took it while he was asleep. But to be sure, the tent is turned over twice before Kev comes to the rescue with the spare ticket. With that sorted, the drinking continues late into the night, a vague plan to go to the Frog nightclub thing doesn't happen when we remember its Razorlight DJ'ing so we continue to sit around the fire, breathing in plastic fumes and talking crap.
Friday:
Friday, for me at least begins with another headache, which quickly fades after some beer. The plan is to get into the arena at least half an hour before GLC come on stage, this way no one misses them like they did last year. Me and Mathew decide to head up to the arena about 12ish, the queuing isn't that bad and we get in quite quickly. The plan being to get to the bar, get beer, watch the end of Do Me Bad Things and wait for GLC. As soon as we get into the arena, we hear Puscha playing some fine pop punk in the Carling tent, so we ditch the plan and watch their last 3 songs before heading to the bar and watching GLC. GLC are still brilliant, with some real laugh out loud moments, the new stuff sounds just like the old stuff and I'm sure that the joke will stop being funny soon. But while it lasts, GLC will remain a guilty pleasure. After that we decide to take a walk around, looking at stuff before going into the Radio 1/NME tent to hear Vic's band of the day, The Blood Brothers, before beating a hasty retreat due to them being tuneless shite. Then its on the see The Dropkick Murpheys, who are good but for some reason the terrible sound reduces all of 3 of their songs to a mess of drums and bass. Then its into the comedy tent, where there is a excrutiatingly long game of bingo and then its a couple of mildly amusing comedians before one really terrible American. You know he's bad when he can't get a laugh out of a bunch of drunk and stoned festival goers. Yet, he refuses to leave to stage, you kinda feel sorry for him until he says "Its because of you the war in Iraq happened." One flying bottle of water later and the guy makes a quick escape. I have an idea to go and see if Fightstar are going to be bottled off, Mathew is against the idea but come along grudgingly. Despite the bottles flying around at the beginning of their set, there are actually people cheering after the first song. We left after that, traumatised by Fightstar's music and in need of beer. The Bacardi B bar becomes one of my favourite places of the festival, the minty Mojitos going down a treat. Then its on to see Queens Of The Stone Age, who I don't know what to make of, they were a bit disappointing, the hits were all there, but the band as a whole were dull. I walked out towards the end of the set to get to the Dance Tent to watch the Audiobullys. Despite a slow start, the Audiobullys put on a great performance, throwing away the Nancy Sinatra remix at the beginning of their set was a good idea, it showed that these guys have more to offer than that, there is a good vibe in the tent and everyone singing along and a brilliant cover of the Prodigy's "Spaceman". They end with the mass singalong of "We Don't Care", one of the best acts of the weekend. I wander towards the main stage, just as The Killers are playing their one good song, it provides enough time to go to the bog and get more drink. I meet up with Kev and Cherie and drag them to see Kasabian. Kasabian actually provide the surprise of the weekend, I went expecting some pretty chilled out indie, something like they sound like on their album. But these guys seriously rock, suprisingly heavy and sacraficing some of the mellower tracks on their album for new punkier sounding stuff. Someone needs to give their studio producer a kick up the arse and get some of the live energy on record.
Then its back to the campsite for some drinking, Cherie has pulled and is in Kevs mansion sized tent(due to the fact that her tent died on Thursday) with this bloke. There is much drinking done, Mathew has been blown away by the Pixies, Mark is gutted about not seeing the Audiobullys, Rob is drunk, being a lightweight as usual and eventually this guy emerges from the tent, says his goodbyes and leave. A couple of minutes later, Cherie appears with a "Well that was a fucking waste of time."
Saturday:
As usual, the hangovers are eased with the help of some lager. Vic wants to see From Autumn To Ashes, so sets out alone, from what we hear coming from the main stage, we aren't missing much. I take a walk up with Kev and Cherie to see the All American Rejects, who are utter garbage. I don't know why I went to see them. But anyway, I decide to take a walk around, I walk into the Lock Up stage, realise that The Explosion are on next and leave. I decide to go and see Clor on the Carling stage, realise that they know perhaps 2 notes and decide to give The Explosion another chance. You know, they might be quite good if they haven't just been blown of stage like they were at Download. Nope, they are still extremely dull, I will not be wasting more of my time on this band. Walking around, I spot the O2 Bar. I've seen this many times at festivals but never given it a second thought, it turns out to be a Godsend. 5 minutes of breathing in pure oxygen makes me feel great. Either that or its a very good placebo. A fluke meeting with Mathew and a trip to be bar sees us making a mission to find a band to watch. I dunno what happened, but all the bands on the Saturday turned out to be really disappointing. We go and see The Others, who sound quite good. Then we run into Mark who I drag to see Be Your Own Pet. I've a couple of songs by them and they sounded ok. But live, they're shockingly bad, tuneless and annoying, but with an extremely attractive singer. We leave about 4 songs in, with me apologising to both Mark and Mathew for putting them through it. We go back to the camp where there is romance blossoming between Rob and Cherie. I grab Mark and Kev and head back into the arena to see Rise Against. I was hoping for great things from Rise Against, but it didn't happen, it didn't help that the crap sound drained their songs of any energy and volume. The songs were great, but Rise Against might as well have been playing a accoustic set for all it mattered. I went to see Anti Flag on Cherie's advice, they actually turned out to be the best band of the day. Then its Bad Religion a band I had really been looking forward to, but in the end were really dull. I walked out to watch the Foo Fighters. I really wanted to enjoy the Foo Fighters, I'd seen them at Ozzfest '98 and they were dull. I was hoping for more from them, but yet again, they were dull. The lightshow was impressive, until you realised it had been nicked from Coldplay's "Clocks" video. Dave Grohl climbs behind the drums and for a brief moment I'm thinking "They're going to do a Nirvana song." Doesn't happen, the song they do play is excrutiatingly dull. The one good song they do play is "Monkey Wrench", which to be fair is too little too late.
I go and get some food and go and check out the caberet, the best bit being the brilliantly funny Men In Coats. I head back to the campsite where Mark has passed out in his chair. For some reason, alcohol possibly the cause, we decide to take a walk around dishing out free hugs. We end up in Brown where there are people doing things with trollys. Cherie ends up on one these trollys, which ends up being held up in the air, before being dropped. Fortunately all she ends up with is a graze on her leg, so he head to the medical people, on the way, I try and get a hug off a police woman, declaring my love for her. She slaps me away with a angry "go away."
After a visit to the medics, we go back to the camp and drink some more. Vic turns up and starts shouting his head off about how we're all boring and promptly disappears before my urge to hit him overwhelms my desire to sit on the ground. More beer follows, Mark is still asleep in his chair, I decide its funny to tip him backwards into his tent, thus freeing up the chair. Mark hits the floor, concerned that I may have killed him, I slap him around the face for a good 5 minutes to make sure he's ok. Then its bed before I pass out on the grass.
Sunday:
Its a late start after the previous night, no one really feels like drinking just yet, so me, Mathew, Vic and Kev make our way into the arena to watch Turbonegro, who are quite good, I hadn't paid that much attention to them before, but I was suitably impressed. Then its on to the Radio 1/NME tent to watch Towers Of London with Mathew and Kev. I love this band, with seconds of taking the stage, Donny has thrown his mic stand at the crowd(did this actually hit anyone, I couln't see from where I was stood). Despite this, the band seem to be in a better mood than when they were at Download, Donny diving into the crowd and bowing when someone who must be a sniper for the SAS hit him smack on the back of the head with a bottle. And yet, it wouldn't mean anything if the music wasn't fucking great. Even Kev, who is notoriously hard to impress, was smiling at the end of their set. Then its onto the bar for the first beers of the day at last. For something to do, we decide take random photo's of us with random people. This turns out to be the most shambolically organised thing ever and only lasts for a few photo's of scared looking people. There is a vague plan to go and see NOFX, but I think I sort of looked at the stage and walked away again. I then decide that I want a barstaff t shirt, for no reason other than I want one. I ask at one of the bars and the guy serving me asks if I want one so that I can sneak behind the bar and help myself to the beer. I can honestly say, I never thought of that. We head back to the campsite for a little while before heading back planning to see Incubus. We made it as far as the bar, where it appears that its my round. The only cider they have left is rough Scrumpy. Which turns out to be pretty much undrinkable to everyone except Mathew. But I make another polite request for a t shirt and the nice girl behind the bar gave me the most torn up t shirt she could find. For that I give her thanks and my everlasting love.
Anyway, another trip back the campsite and me Mathew Kev and Rob H take a trip into the arena to see Marilyn Manson. To be fair, its not the best performance I've ever seen him give, but what is amusing is that when he puts his arm around the guitarist, the look on the guitarists face is one of complete disgust. Probably the thought of impending unemployment. But its great to hear all the old tunes, like "The Dope Show", "The Beautiful People" and "Antichrist Superstar". It makes me feel like I'm 17 again.
Me and Mathew hang around to see Iron Maiden, while Kev and Rob H go and see Bloc Party. Iron Maiden to be fair are much better than I thought they would be, but after a while they get a bit boring, so we go for a wander around and find out that the bars are running out of both Bacardi and Jack Daniels. So we head back to the camp and to our surprise find that the mayhem that is Sunday night hasn't started yet. Its isn't lond however and in desperation for stuff to burn on the fire, Kev's broken chair goes on. A few minutes later, some guy comes over asking if we know anything about where his chairs have gone, we are all too aware of how suspicious the burning chair on the fire looks. And so as Reading Festival decends into chaos, we all sit around the fire, trying to find things to burn and just chilling out. Vic on the other hand is very drunk and very annoying, he throws everyones chairs onto the fire as well as bags of rubbish, causing the fire to burn out of control, ruining Mathews tent and dripping hot plastic on Rob H. Thankfully, after the firewarden has put out the fire, Vic disappears. I decide to call it a night, gotta drive in the morning. But first there is the mystery of the tear in the entrance to my tent, a little investigation reveals an exploded aerosol can in my tent.
Monday:
I awake to Kev saying "Highly flammable my arse!" followed by a loud explosion. Yes it is that time of the festival where you have to drag everything back to the car, in my case and rather shamefully, a fully case of lager. Kev is being his usual patient self and simply tips Cherie out of the tent when she refuses to wake up. And Vic is being quite repentant, he knows he pissed people off the previous night, this doesn't stop him from annoyingly telling he wants every girls phone number within a 50 meter radius. With the cars loaded up, its time to begin what is quite possibly a suicide mission to get home. Mark ends up in London, which really doesn't impress him and I nearly die when someone decides to cut me up, with some twat following so closely behind me I can see his nasal hair in my rear view mirror. But all in all, it was a damn fine festival. I just hope I can get tickets for next year.
The plan is to get to Kev's for 10ish, so that we can watch Lost, load up the cars and go. This goes wrong spectacularly within 30 seconds as we get halfway down the road and Mark has lost his phone. This kinda sets the tone for his weekend. Anyway his phone is found and we're off again. Within minutes of being on the road, my phone is ringing, Kev wants to know if there is anyone who wants to buy a ticket. One of my friends have pulled out because they're "ill". Anyway we get to Kev's, picking up Vic on the way, load up the cars and go. The party this year is pretty much the same as last, me, my brothers, Mark and Mathew, Kev, Rob and Vic, plus festival newcomers, Rob H and Cherie(I think is how her name is spelt). Carl and Adam have had to settle for Leeds this year.
Kev, who I'm supposed to be following again, races off without a second thought as I settle for a more sedate pace. We meet at South Mimms for a short rest and are off again, I follow the wrong car and take the wrong motorway, getting totally lost but finally managing to get to Reading. From here on in, it should be easy, show our tickets to the people and park up. Nothing is that easy.
I show the tickets to the SS bloke, who suddenly says "Who's smoking weed?" I try to explain that none of us in the car smoke it, which is true. This is not good enough for the guy who makes me get out of the car and threatens to search it. Trying to be helpful, I ask which bit of the car he wants to search, like if he wanted to search the boot, I would open the boot. The genius answers with "the car". Great, not only is this guy a prick, he's a moron as well. He calls one of his mates over, explains the situation and the new guy sticks his head in the car and has a sniff. He can't smell anything. Not happy with this second opinion, he calls a third person over for another opinion. Again nothing. A forth person is called over and again, this person can't smell anything. Victory is mine, for all of 2 seconds before he starts on me about glass bottles. I wouldn't have minded so much, but the car with the stoners in it was simply waved through. The guy pissed me off.
Anyway, we get parked up head to the campsite and grab ourselves the same bit of land as last year, though this time we set the tents up so that crappy neighbours can't get that close to us. To be fair, all our neighbours were pretty cool this year. So with that we get started on the drinking, which is pretty cool as it starts to get light. Rob's declaration that he isn't going to drink anything until 10 at night lasts less time than Kev's self imposed drink ban at Download. I even smoke some weed, just to spite the twat at the gate. I half expected him to come running over shouting "I FUCKING KNEW IT!"
The drinking continues until 12ish, Cherie instigates a game called "Buffalo", which to be fair really should have been explained before we got drunk as the rules were far to complicated to remember. We buy laminates and booklets, have a long winded rant about how Hatebreed shouldn't be above Bad Religion and me Mathew and Vic decide to go and get tagged. After that, tiredness takes over and I decide to have a little sleep.
I wake up during a raging thunderstorm, which goes great with my pounding headache. But at least, my tent didn't leak and the rain that we do get doesn't turn Reading into the swamp that it was last year. Mark decides to go and get his wristband, but his ticket has disappeared. He knows where he put it, he showed us before he went to sleep, which makes me think that someone saw where he stuck it and took it while he was asleep. But to be sure, the tent is turned over twice before Kev comes to the rescue with the spare ticket. With that sorted, the drinking continues late into the night, a vague plan to go to the Frog nightclub thing doesn't happen when we remember its Razorlight DJ'ing so we continue to sit around the fire, breathing in plastic fumes and talking crap.
Friday:
Friday, for me at least begins with another headache, which quickly fades after some beer. The plan is to get into the arena at least half an hour before GLC come on stage, this way no one misses them like they did last year. Me and Mathew decide to head up to the arena about 12ish, the queuing isn't that bad and we get in quite quickly. The plan being to get to the bar, get beer, watch the end of Do Me Bad Things and wait for GLC. As soon as we get into the arena, we hear Puscha playing some fine pop punk in the Carling tent, so we ditch the plan and watch their last 3 songs before heading to the bar and watching GLC. GLC are still brilliant, with some real laugh out loud moments, the new stuff sounds just like the old stuff and I'm sure that the joke will stop being funny soon. But while it lasts, GLC will remain a guilty pleasure. After that we decide to take a walk around, looking at stuff before going into the Radio 1/NME tent to hear Vic's band of the day, The Blood Brothers, before beating a hasty retreat due to them being tuneless shite. Then its on the see The Dropkick Murpheys, who are good but for some reason the terrible sound reduces all of 3 of their songs to a mess of drums and bass. Then its into the comedy tent, where there is a excrutiatingly long game of bingo and then its a couple of mildly amusing comedians before one really terrible American. You know he's bad when he can't get a laugh out of a bunch of drunk and stoned festival goers. Yet, he refuses to leave to stage, you kinda feel sorry for him until he says "Its because of you the war in Iraq happened." One flying bottle of water later and the guy makes a quick escape. I have an idea to go and see if Fightstar are going to be bottled off, Mathew is against the idea but come along grudgingly. Despite the bottles flying around at the beginning of their set, there are actually people cheering after the first song. We left after that, traumatised by Fightstar's music and in need of beer. The Bacardi B bar becomes one of my favourite places of the festival, the minty Mojitos going down a treat. Then its on to see Queens Of The Stone Age, who I don't know what to make of, they were a bit disappointing, the hits were all there, but the band as a whole were dull. I walked out towards the end of the set to get to the Dance Tent to watch the Audiobullys. Despite a slow start, the Audiobullys put on a great performance, throwing away the Nancy Sinatra remix at the beginning of their set was a good idea, it showed that these guys have more to offer than that, there is a good vibe in the tent and everyone singing along and a brilliant cover of the Prodigy's "Spaceman". They end with the mass singalong of "We Don't Care", one of the best acts of the weekend. I wander towards the main stage, just as The Killers are playing their one good song, it provides enough time to go to the bog and get more drink. I meet up with Kev and Cherie and drag them to see Kasabian. Kasabian actually provide the surprise of the weekend, I went expecting some pretty chilled out indie, something like they sound like on their album. But these guys seriously rock, suprisingly heavy and sacraficing some of the mellower tracks on their album for new punkier sounding stuff. Someone needs to give their studio producer a kick up the arse and get some of the live energy on record.
Then its back to the campsite for some drinking, Cherie has pulled and is in Kevs mansion sized tent(due to the fact that her tent died on Thursday) with this bloke. There is much drinking done, Mathew has been blown away by the Pixies, Mark is gutted about not seeing the Audiobullys, Rob is drunk, being a lightweight as usual and eventually this guy emerges from the tent, says his goodbyes and leave. A couple of minutes later, Cherie appears with a "Well that was a fucking waste of time."
Saturday:
As usual, the hangovers are eased with the help of some lager. Vic wants to see From Autumn To Ashes, so sets out alone, from what we hear coming from the main stage, we aren't missing much. I take a walk up with Kev and Cherie to see the All American Rejects, who are utter garbage. I don't know why I went to see them. But anyway, I decide to take a walk around, I walk into the Lock Up stage, realise that The Explosion are on next and leave. I decide to go and see Clor on the Carling stage, realise that they know perhaps 2 notes and decide to give The Explosion another chance. You know, they might be quite good if they haven't just been blown of stage like they were at Download. Nope, they are still extremely dull, I will not be wasting more of my time on this band. Walking around, I spot the O2 Bar. I've seen this many times at festivals but never given it a second thought, it turns out to be a Godsend. 5 minutes of breathing in pure oxygen makes me feel great. Either that or its a very good placebo. A fluke meeting with Mathew and a trip to be bar sees us making a mission to find a band to watch. I dunno what happened, but all the bands on the Saturday turned out to be really disappointing. We go and see The Others, who sound quite good. Then we run into Mark who I drag to see Be Your Own Pet. I've a couple of songs by them and they sounded ok. But live, they're shockingly bad, tuneless and annoying, but with an extremely attractive singer. We leave about 4 songs in, with me apologising to both Mark and Mathew for putting them through it. We go back to the camp where there is romance blossoming between Rob and Cherie. I grab Mark and Kev and head back into the arena to see Rise Against. I was hoping for great things from Rise Against, but it didn't happen, it didn't help that the crap sound drained their songs of any energy and volume. The songs were great, but Rise Against might as well have been playing a accoustic set for all it mattered. I went to see Anti Flag on Cherie's advice, they actually turned out to be the best band of the day. Then its Bad Religion a band I had really been looking forward to, but in the end were really dull. I walked out to watch the Foo Fighters. I really wanted to enjoy the Foo Fighters, I'd seen them at Ozzfest '98 and they were dull. I was hoping for more from them, but yet again, they were dull. The lightshow was impressive, until you realised it had been nicked from Coldplay's "Clocks" video. Dave Grohl climbs behind the drums and for a brief moment I'm thinking "They're going to do a Nirvana song." Doesn't happen, the song they do play is excrutiatingly dull. The one good song they do play is "Monkey Wrench", which to be fair is too little too late.
I go and get some food and go and check out the caberet, the best bit being the brilliantly funny Men In Coats. I head back to the campsite where Mark has passed out in his chair. For some reason, alcohol possibly the cause, we decide to take a walk around dishing out free hugs. We end up in Brown where there are people doing things with trollys. Cherie ends up on one these trollys, which ends up being held up in the air, before being dropped. Fortunately all she ends up with is a graze on her leg, so he head to the medical people, on the way, I try and get a hug off a police woman, declaring my love for her. She slaps me away with a angry "go away."
After a visit to the medics, we go back to the camp and drink some more. Vic turns up and starts shouting his head off about how we're all boring and promptly disappears before my urge to hit him overwhelms my desire to sit on the ground. More beer follows, Mark is still asleep in his chair, I decide its funny to tip him backwards into his tent, thus freeing up the chair. Mark hits the floor, concerned that I may have killed him, I slap him around the face for a good 5 minutes to make sure he's ok. Then its bed before I pass out on the grass.
Sunday:
Its a late start after the previous night, no one really feels like drinking just yet, so me, Mathew, Vic and Kev make our way into the arena to watch Turbonegro, who are quite good, I hadn't paid that much attention to them before, but I was suitably impressed. Then its on to the Radio 1/NME tent to watch Towers Of London with Mathew and Kev. I love this band, with seconds of taking the stage, Donny has thrown his mic stand at the crowd(did this actually hit anyone, I couln't see from where I was stood). Despite this, the band seem to be in a better mood than when they were at Download, Donny diving into the crowd and bowing when someone who must be a sniper for the SAS hit him smack on the back of the head with a bottle. And yet, it wouldn't mean anything if the music wasn't fucking great. Even Kev, who is notoriously hard to impress, was smiling at the end of their set. Then its onto the bar for the first beers of the day at last. For something to do, we decide take random photo's of us with random people. This turns out to be the most shambolically organised thing ever and only lasts for a few photo's of scared looking people. There is a vague plan to go and see NOFX, but I think I sort of looked at the stage and walked away again. I then decide that I want a barstaff t shirt, for no reason other than I want one. I ask at one of the bars and the guy serving me asks if I want one so that I can sneak behind the bar and help myself to the beer. I can honestly say, I never thought of that. We head back to the campsite for a little while before heading back planning to see Incubus. We made it as far as the bar, where it appears that its my round. The only cider they have left is rough Scrumpy. Which turns out to be pretty much undrinkable to everyone except Mathew. But I make another polite request for a t shirt and the nice girl behind the bar gave me the most torn up t shirt she could find. For that I give her thanks and my everlasting love.
Anyway, another trip back the campsite and me Mathew Kev and Rob H take a trip into the arena to see Marilyn Manson. To be fair, its not the best performance I've ever seen him give, but what is amusing is that when he puts his arm around the guitarist, the look on the guitarists face is one of complete disgust. Probably the thought of impending unemployment. But its great to hear all the old tunes, like "The Dope Show", "The Beautiful People" and "Antichrist Superstar". It makes me feel like I'm 17 again.
Me and Mathew hang around to see Iron Maiden, while Kev and Rob H go and see Bloc Party. Iron Maiden to be fair are much better than I thought they would be, but after a while they get a bit boring, so we go for a wander around and find out that the bars are running out of both Bacardi and Jack Daniels. So we head back to the camp and to our surprise find that the mayhem that is Sunday night hasn't started yet. Its isn't lond however and in desperation for stuff to burn on the fire, Kev's broken chair goes on. A few minutes later, some guy comes over asking if we know anything about where his chairs have gone, we are all too aware of how suspicious the burning chair on the fire looks. And so as Reading Festival decends into chaos, we all sit around the fire, trying to find things to burn and just chilling out. Vic on the other hand is very drunk and very annoying, he throws everyones chairs onto the fire as well as bags of rubbish, causing the fire to burn out of control, ruining Mathews tent and dripping hot plastic on Rob H. Thankfully, after the firewarden has put out the fire, Vic disappears. I decide to call it a night, gotta drive in the morning. But first there is the mystery of the tear in the entrance to my tent, a little investigation reveals an exploded aerosol can in my tent.
Monday:
I awake to Kev saying "Highly flammable my arse!" followed by a loud explosion. Yes it is that time of the festival where you have to drag everything back to the car, in my case and rather shamefully, a fully case of lager. Kev is being his usual patient self and simply tips Cherie out of the tent when she refuses to wake up. And Vic is being quite repentant, he knows he pissed people off the previous night, this doesn't stop him from annoyingly telling he wants every girls phone number within a 50 meter radius. With the cars loaded up, its time to begin what is quite possibly a suicide mission to get home. Mark ends up in London, which really doesn't impress him and I nearly die when someone decides to cut me up, with some twat following so closely behind me I can see his nasal hair in my rear view mirror. But all in all, it was a damn fine festival. I just hope I can get tickets for next year.