Pearl Jam headlined Friday night. I knew they would be good but it was magic. We were standing in a good spot, it was getting dark and the English summer air was lovely on our faces. We watched with most of the 70,000 other festies and the whole place sang every word of Black with Eddie, completely mesmerized. Kissing my boy as his voice faded out at the end of the song was lovely, lovely.
The next morning we busied ourselves finding a mini camping burner and a pot so that we no longer had to pay two pounds for a cup of tea. For you Canadians reading that is nearly $5 so I’m sure you can understand why that had to stop because I drink on average ten cups a day. Especially when I’m chilly, and I was sleeping in a tent.
We watched some bands – I was not a fan of the Kaiser Chiefs. I just don’t understand the hype, at all. Their singer is well full of himself which doesn’t help their cause.
Franz Ferdinand, however, were brilliant. We were stood next to a handful of early thirty-ish women who were doing poppers and dancing about which was a giggle. We kept seeing this rainbow flag everywhere with peace written across it in white which would have been more suited, I think, to Beautiful Days, but it was pretty.
Back at camp, we lit a fire. People meandered by and warmed their hands, and I drank brandy and watched the ravers spin around on the path. All in all a good night.