As music festival season approaches in 2011, I, like many of you, find myself being constantly asked the question "Which festivals are you going to this year?". This question has changed from a few years ago, when it would be "Are you going to any festivals this year?". A subtle difference, but what has changed (since festival culture has really taken over) is the implication that I, as a fan of music, am somehow obliged to take part in one or more music festivals this year, whether I like it or not.
This presents me with a problem, because in truth, I like it not. I love music, I love good live music, but I just can't enjoy music festivals.
I can overlook the often ridiculous ticket prices (you can always work as a volunteer and get yourself a free ticket). I can overlook every festivals need to put on all your favourite bands at once (hey man, at least your seeing one of them). I can even overlook the hordes or teenagers in Green Day hoodies who have got hideously drunk and think its fine to just piss and vomit anywhere they like (for future reference, my wellies are not a urinal).
No, the real problem for me, is the choice to pay for the privilege of lowering your standard of living dramatically for the sake of seeing a few bands in the same weekend. I refer of course, to camping.
I hate camping. I mean I really have no idea why anyone would ever choose to spend any time in a tent in England. Best case scenario, you get nice and drunk, wrap up warm, and (having remembered your earplugs) manage to get to sleep around 4am. Two and a half hours later, you wake up sweating, the sun having turned your tent into a greenhouse. The obligatory hangover, combined with wearing three jumpers and two pairs of socks inside a hot canvas bubble with no air supply, forces you to call it a day on the sleep front. Bedsides, you desperately need water, so out you crawl on to the dew covered grass (or more likely at a festival, piss covered grass), and go join a half hour queue with other unfortunate festival go-ers for one of the site water taps.
The worst case scenario? Getting back from the band arena in the dark (having decided the Foo Fighters are not worth fighting the exhaustion you are feeling after three nights of the above scenario for), to find the space that your tent used to be in is now occupied by a stick in the ground. Attached to it is a note saying "Your tent has been moved. To find it, you must follow a series of cryptic clues...". After an hour of following these craptic clues around the campsite, you find the final clue has either been removed by some other campsite residents, or never even existed. You wander around in the freezing cold and fog for a couple of hours before finally bumping into someone you know and manage to persuade them to let you have half of the room in their one man tent.
It turns out they are extremely drunk and a lot more gay than you remembered, so after an hour of fighting back their advances, you wipe their vomit off your arm and wander back to your own campsite. Its daylight now and you see your tent has been moved a mere 10 feet from where it had been previously been. Despite the obvious annoyance, you feel a sense of relief to find it and see all of your stuff (including your train ticket home) is still in there.
That is, until the following night, when you come back to find it on fire.
Still, I hope you all have a great time at whichever festival(s) you are going to this year. Personally, I think I'll stay in the comfort of my own home and watch the highlights on telly. Not only can I watch my favourite bands without any clashes, I can get hideously drunk safe in the knowledge there's a toilet to piss and vomit in just metres away. Hell, I might even use the money I save to buy that Green Day hoody I've had my eye on...
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