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Sunday, 5 December 2010

Secret Garden Party 2010

So, jolly British holidays all round - which after 15 months of traversing Asia, living out of a rucksack and getting by on £5 a day, is just what the doctor ordered. We skilfully combined these with a few festivals: my first was the divine Secret Garden Party, with free tickets courtesy of good contacts. The outcome was 3 of us in a 2-man tent; I had a small suitcase - which for 2 days I thought was mildly extravagant. They both had full sized suitcases.

(Below) Noon - still lucid.

On our arrival we settled down for some booze and some makeup retouching. Holleigh, a makeup artist (an excellent one at that) rolled out a set of 40 brushes stating that she, "only brought the ones she thought she might need". Our helpless laughter soon alerted her to the brilliance of that comment. As we were all trying to decide what to wear, a steady trickle of visitors passed by with exclamations such as "my god there really are 3 of you in there". Word had spread and we were a tourist attraction. In an attempt to be vaguely practical, Holly and I had spent 50 quid at the Kings Cross Tescos, and whilst we did not seem to have purchased much, we had bought 3 very large potatoes with plans to "put them in the camp fire". Needless to say, the potatoes stayed behind. That weekend consisted of early morning vodkas, laughing gas, writing on passed out strangers ("Love me, love my tractor" was one little gem), tea parties, nonsense in caravans and lots of pies. Most of this I only know from photos, such as the one of me drinking from a sweetly painted teacup, at a tea party in a field, with the mad hatter, wearing the white rabbit's head.

                                       Holleigh, dressing fancy.

                                                    Increasingly blurry

Confusing to say the least. I also recall being sat in the middle of a field with Holleigh at 8am, 2 hours before we had to get a train. A man mildly insulted us, then fell over our legs and stayed down, breathing quietly. After a while there was a bit of dialogue, and we found him quite entertaining. We all seemed to be yearning for some hippie crack (another excellent deadpan quote from Holleigh "the problem with laughing gas, is that I NEED it 24/7") . . . the problem was neither of us had any money left. Oh poor, naive, foolish boy that he was; out of nowhere (still face down on the ground) he held up his wallet to the sky (an awkward manoeuvre it was too), with the words "I've got money!” Needless to say, we all giggled and giggled until the money ran out, and our loveable but very unwise companion went tripping off to pastures new.

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