T-in the dark.

Huge Volkswagon Campervan design plastic bag (made out of old plastic bottles)with strong carry handles. Check.
Rubber Mallet.  Check.
Head torch.  Check.
Plastic ponchos.  Check.
Instant white coffee satchets.  Check.
Citronella tea-lights.  Check.
Couple of cases of Red Stripe (not shown).  Check.

G's festival kit is now well under way.  The Wickerman is in two weeks, so he is putting together all the essentials, using the knowledge he has gained from years and years of dedicated festival attendance. 

Along the road at Strathallan, T in the Park is in full swing now, and we can just make out the lights from the upstairs windows, and when we are standing outside, in the nearly completely dark now, we can hear the dull drubbing sound of the bass lines.  God knows what it must sound like up close - we are about ten miles away!

I'd like to go to a festival, but only if I could use a proper bathroom when I wanted, without queueing!  And if I could go home to my own bed, rather than sleeping in a tent with hundreds of others around me.  And if it didn't rain.

And if I didn't have to stand all the time. And if people didn't bump into me.  It's official: I'm old! 

G goes to the festivals for both of us, and while he is away I go mad in the garden and the house, making mad decisions (and purchases!) that he would restrain me from if he was here.  So, it works out well for both of us. 

But for now, I'm going to crack open a Sol, curl up on the sofa, and watch T on the telly; that's MY idea of a good festival!