It’s funny how sometimes there’s a blog-shaped gap and, try as I might, nothing to fill it at all. Or the only stuff going on in my life is too boring to even think about, let alone adorn the blog.
However, at the moment, my head is as jammed as my calendar. Don’t get too excited, it’s not that a glittering social life has appeared out of the ether. No. It’s just that the intermittent bit where I worry about where I’m going to get some work from next is over for the time being. (Most of my toiling falls into the middling dull category and certainly not interesting enough to trouble you about, though)
What’s on my mind most today – on a slightly grubby Virgin train to Edinburgh, since you ask – is this weekend’s entertainment.
After 49 years I am planning to go to my very first festival. And now what last year, when I gazed at heavily filtered social media posts, seemed a topping idea is now looming scary.
Here are the things I’m worrying about, in no particular order:
- What if it rains? All that mud will be a bit yucky won’t it?
- Do Boy Three’s wellies still fit him? Of course not.
- When am I going to find time to take him to the welly shop?
- The loos. How bad are they really?
- Can you buy wellies in July?
- Does the Panther own a pair of wellies?
- Why am I worrying about whether or not another adult owns a pair of wellies?
- Note to self: Remind panther to buy wellies.
- Which tent will we use? Yes, we are a multi-tent family. Obviously the best one is the three-man tent but it’s a bit complicated to put up especially without the aid of Boy Two, who is still at his dad’s. Last time the Panther and I tried to erect a tent together it nearly ended in divorce.
- Which sleeping bag will I use? (Obviously I’ve got more than one of them too!)
- Don’t forget earplugs.
- The loos. Especially when I have to do that thing where I need to go for a wee just before I go to sleep even if there isn’t any wee and, in any case, I just went five minutes ago.
- Don’t forget wet wipes?
- Chairs. Folding chairs. Yes. I mustn’t forget. Or does no one take chairs to a festival?
- Will everyone be younger than us. Will they gang up on us and laugh at us for being passed it?
- Who are all those bands on the line-up? OK, even a few of them – sing me the songs. The hits. I’ll know them, won’t I?
- Have you seen how young all the people look on the website?
- Will anyone mind if I listen to the Archers?
- How do we get all our stuff from the car to the camping field? And how crowded will it be?
- Is it safe? Will it be crowded!
- OK, it’ll be crowded, but just how crowded? I can I have forgotten how much I dislike actual people?
- What am I going to wear? Is stylish and comfortable actually possible in a muddy field?
- This magazine article says not to wear jeans to a festival. Hmph. But then again it does suggest a boob tubes and flip flops – I own neither.
- How smelly will the loos be?
- Oooh, look. There’s a gin emporium! And shops and lots of incredible looking food. And the weather forecast isn’t too bad either.
- It’ll be marvellous, won’t it? I’ll be back here next week full of enthusiasm, wondering why I didn’t do it years ago? Please.