Friday night and I’m sat outside Milton Keynes train station, it rains as I watch as festival goers arrive and leave, I pick them out easily amongst the sea of trackies and 90’s emo kids. Concrete and glass surrounds, two and a half hours pass and finally a transit van comes hurtling around into the car park and into the bus lane. My suitcase is thrown in the back; a rum and ginger (heavy on the rum) is thrust in my hand and we’re off.
The festival; Boomtown Fair, the location; a field in the grounds of a classical show house built in the 1600’s, now home to Stowe School and a garden centre. We enter through an impressively long drive and there’s an obelisk in the distance. We’re ushered into park behind the Lion’s Den (reggae tent). In the van behind are Tom and Luke from Wales soon to be our wingmen for the weekend. Already a culture has been established, we trade cider for mushrooms and water for, well, other stuff. It’s a good trade and seals our friendship.
We are led into the night, I adopt the customary Friday night policy of getting totally obliterated sans supper, after my losing my mind in a dance tent post The Wurzels, I spend daybreak dry retching in the woods. Wide-eyed and belly aching we head back into town to explore the realities of daylight; failing to recover the brand new coat gifted to Lucy a day ago, she winces.
You can read more of my write up for Crack magazine by clicking here.
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