Tuesday, August 30, 2005

"And there's panic on the streets of Carlisle, Dublin, Dundee, Humberside..."

I've never smelt a smell like it! I work off Portobello Road in Notting Hill; home to the one of the world's most famous carnivals. I'm sure the festivities are a wonderful celebration of London's diversity, expansive cultural heritages and show of unity in the face of terrorism. However, the amount of horsehit, piles of vomit, left over greasy take-away food, stale beer and other unidentifiable left-overs littering my walk to work was really really grim - it kinda looked like someone had blown up the place.
I've only ever been to the carnival once. It was alright. I was 17 and not very used to large crowds of revellers and found it all a bit daunting and scary. Also I'm not the biggest fan of Reggae which was all I could hear on the big stereos so thought it was kinda shit. Plus it just so happens the Carnival falls on the same weekend as Reading Festival and, well quite frankly, that wins every year.

Speaking of which, I am the walking wounded today. Like a soldier returning from the frontline of ROCK! I'm sunburnt (with big white panda eyes from my sunglasses) I have a blistered bottom lip, a dry scabby nose, an ulcer on the side of my tongue and two bruises on either side of my hips. But I can safely say that it was perhaps my weekend of the year so far - and most certainly the best Reading I've ever had. I won't bore you with all the details of who I saw, Evan explains it a lot better than I could here and pretty much what he did I did too so read his blog. I will say this though:

IT ROCKED!!!!

What I like most about festivals, generally is the freedom, the overwhelming sense of freedom. The ability to do anything you like, whenever you like, safe with the knowledge that it won't matter a shit for another couple of days. This manifests itself in many ways. Like the fact that you can drink litres of vodka (or in Evan and Sean's case Carling) act like a complete arse, roll around on the floor, dance like a twat and know full well that everyone else is/will be doing the same and won't even notice. You can wear whatever the fuck you like and get away with it. Although I do have an issue with a) people who wear festival hats. You know who you are. b) all the industry wankers who have bought their 'rock outfits' purely for Reading and they think by going to Reading satisfies the rock tip their desperately trying to get because its fashionable. And c) all the teenage girls wearing little mini-skirts and stripey tights trying to get laid for the weekend.
Well actually I don't mind the latter so much - we've all been there.

Anyway - normal life gets put on hold for the duration of the weekend. You don't worry about money, the amount you smoke, the amount you drink, the amount you take, what you eat, who sees you, what you look like (exclude my panda eyes here - there are limits), the fact that you don't sleep, and generally feel like crap. The most said phrase to questions such as "Is it too early for a beer?" is: "Fuck it - it's Reading" and its that mindset, that reckless abandon of normal life restraints and limits vanish, for 3 wickedly wonderful days.

And that rules.

Anyway, enough of that hippy shit - did I mention I met Dave Grohl? Cheesy picture coming soon.

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