Festival. Oh god.

Morning One of the Jxxx Festival. After a late arrival, thanks in part to Sean’s school disco and more significantly to my pressing need for donuts, I park the van with the aid of a handbrake turn and hit the dancefloor. Bad idea. Can’t work out why people are wearing ponchos. The children go for a swim forgetting their towels. I proceed to pursue them round the party, just missing them everywhere as concerned parents offer my hypothermic offspring warm clothing while muttering ‘Typical’. Assemble bedding in dark, van electrics out. Lie awake listening to young people, and those made young by booze, having a good time. Sean farts and snores like his mother. I get up in the middle of the night to pee, my space is taken with ninja like speed by thankless daughter. Feel old as Lear. I’m awake. Everyone else isn’t. Toy with letting guy ropes down. Eat biscuits I found down the side of the chair.
Alisdair Williamson's photo.

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