Finding neverland

En-route

Sitting on the bus on the way to the airport, I glance out the window in front of me… the last few hours of sunshine spreads in a golden wave across the lush green slopes of the English countryside. My heart fluctuates between that satisfied feeling deep in my soul and the nervousness of knowing that I’ve got to change pace and restrain that inner child that’s been roaming free for the last few days…

My mind’s been blown, literally and metaphorically considering my brain cells have definitely been significantly reduced… but aside from the self-medication and rather foggy head, my hearts feels expansive (did you know your heart’s electric field is 60 times the magnitude than that of your brain.. no wonder feelings take so much priority in our lives…) It’s been nurtured with the grooves, connections and atmosphere of a 3 day regression session… An engagement party of sorts where everyone commits to liberating their soul in unison as we reach a state of oneness with a uni-verse.

Let’s rewind a little… the fast paced and unsurprisingly stressful journey to the station on the way to the party left us with 2 minutes to spare, racing up the stairs with the regular panic of thinking we were going to miss our train yet again, but as always (touch wood) we made it in the nick of time. Ciders at the ready and a red face in no time, we broke the barrier of 'no eye-contact on a train' and made new friends with the guy in the seat next to us, as we wrote L’s hippie activism sign for ‘Woodstock day’ that read ‘Saving the bees gives me a buzz’ – it didn’t actually get used but was a conversation starter if anything.

Down the rabbit hole

Sexy garden party

So we arrived at the train station and after a failed attempt at trying to haggle a taxi driver down to get to the stately home in the middle of the countryside, we wondered away to try to get a bus, hoping he’d call back for us… but he didn’t. So with no idea where to go, we sheepishly sauntered over to agree on the original set price… we picked up the essentials and arrived at the house of fun (Listen: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RIacAO4Ttyk)

Choose your face ;)

The warm glow of fairy lights greeted us, accompanied by the faint sounds of jazzy beats as 70 +people dressed in crazy outfits (accompanied by fluorescent fro’s and straggly bits of barbie hair) emerged from all directions, embracing old and new faces alike. We found our rooms, got into costumes and began the shenanigans – we wondered in awe around the fantastical maze … from the chapel rave to the giant games room filled with snooker tables, giant cross-4 and chess boards, a trampoline, space hoppers and so much more …

Mags and co.

Aaaand the party kicked off .. bleh bang boombamdizzledoo we moved to them funky funky beats and got U’s ‘good vibrations goin on’ … twirling and twisting in all sorts of weird and wonderful ways. Listening to hilarious stories about how J got spat on in tesco by a random woman (for buying baby props for his outfit) or chanting mantras of Dave eating his vitamins ;) …

Emergency bingoo

Time seemed irrelevant as everyone went with the rhythm of their own constitution. The weather forecast had been one of two extremes, so it was either bikini weather or tornado’s … but the vibes caught on and were glorious as the sun shined and we all lay together on the grass, under trees of cherry blossom jamming away.

The forfeits for those that hadn’t completed their tasks pre-party, involved drinking a shot and racing down a hill against someone on a space hopper :p and then the shift embraced a bit of funk and soul that filled the space and got the grooving going. I swam doggy paddle in circles in the pool, watching with dilated pupils the steam come off the water as it collided with the cold air above it… C. continued to paddle about, solo and nude with a baby doll being thrown around and caressed by each of us in turn… I soon joined in on the dread shared by the rest of the pool dwellers regarding getting out of the water and into the cold, cold air. But it had to be done! So towels at the ready, and the next set of clothes…

Forfeits

The themes for each night were ‘the carnival of colours’, ‘heaven and hell’ and 'Woodstock'. On the Heaven and hell evening, as I raved in the cornered off ‘hell section’ in the chapel dressed as Maggie thatcher, there seemed to be less of a willingness to cross over to the dark side and there was soon a sad shift in numbers as people wiggled their way to heaven… my partner in crime who was dressed as a giant baby stuck close by, at least magz still has some supporters… as I danced in front of ‘jihadi john’ the DJ, I couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony of the situation..

Woodstock was wonderful as everyone’s inner hippie emerged. Flowers, fumes, sunnies, hippie pants and a kaleidoscope of colours as we all bonded, roamed and soaked in some delicious vitamin D. Later on came games of emergency bingo, secret disco rooms, mystic tents, hypothecary and moustache stalls, face paint, drawing booths, photo booths and powerful performances. The chapel was again transformed, thanks to the amazing organisation committee and we raved all night spinning to colourful disco balls, reading tarot cards and having spangly wangly conversations and musical jams.

The games room

It was a time for our hearts to be free, for judgments, worries and conformity to be left with reality. We slept at different times in one of many beds and awoke to more sexy kitchen, chapel, karaoke and pool parties, you just had to follow the chants to find out where to go. Surprise pass the parcel at 4am in the dining room was my favourite… techno tunes as we manically passed the parcel along revealing the naughty treats beneath each layer. And then finally, as though someone had clicked their fingers, the clock began to tick again and the party came to a close as a very delirious clean up took priority between 70+ people and the home slowly returned to its normal state.

Although I’m a newcomer, the attachments formed when you create so many bonds is always hard to leave – so we decided not to :p … and headed to the nearest beach to sink into sand dunes with the strumming of guitar and the melody of R and U singing Hare Krishna mantras. Flower fumes, luscombe ice cream and cheesy chips – we covered up from the sea breeze and sat together to enjoy what was soon beginning to feel like summer (with evidence of red noses to take home with us) …

Parting hugs, future promises and back in the car we went, stealing a few souls with us to Bristol for the night to indulge in Indian, feel clean again and snuggle into comfortable duvets with a mellow mix to sooth us to sleep.
With the pressure of our western lifestyles, a manic form of liberation is essential too – getting weird, getting down and acting somewhat like a clown (or dressed like one) you feed that aspect of your spirit that needs to have fun and not always take life too seriously (even though it’s easy to forget that.)

Beach Jams 

Words cant describe the magical event that’s appropriate to call the best party of the year full of love, respect and trust (and probably one of the coolest chapel raves on easter sunday!) so thank you to the wonderfully organised Captain and team for making it such a special occasion, my appreciation is dear.

Delirium describes my present state as I sit on an aeroplane en-route to Malaysia for the next adventure, to recuperate my senses, connect to my family and lovers and feel the steamy heat on my face as I step out of the aeroplane and into my tropical home for a eggstatic Easter ;).

Song of the day: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E2VCwBzGdPM

A Kindred Surprise

Giiiirls

 The cold wind swept through my hair as we rushed along the quiet roads. On the back of T’s scooter, I hung on to his notorious beige leather jacket as we rode a

C, L and I

long the arching robot-like bridges. It was just over a year ago when I was in the same position with T and the gang in Laos and even longer with J and the girls, but with a bit of effort and some productive Facebook time, I’d made it to a very different part of the world and T's home country, The Netherlands. Bittersweet is the only adjective I can think of how to describe the ending. You can't be too down when your soul's so lifted. I looked next to me at the faces that I’d spent the last few beautiful days with… a chirpy Aussie, a feisty Swiss Latino, a sexy Spaniard, a cool German, a fist pumping Welshman, a gorgeous Canadian, a lovely Dutchman and a flower girl, what a mix! It was as though someone had brushed everyone over with a layer of serenity. Expressions were soft, movements were slow and the odd giggle would always peep out of someone every few minutes, the rest of the group either laughing or moaning together in response. It was the day after the deep house festival DGTL (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zXgwjSfaNSk) and instead of sulking in bed with the curtains closed; we took advantage of the sunny skies, though it took a while to actually reach that conclusion. I’m sure everyone knows how long big groups can take to get their act together, especially when no one’s too eager to move… So a few of us assigned everyone roles to get things going, we'd decided ours should involve the least amount of movement - that idea didn’t pass and we compromised by all agreeing to get up, treat ourselves to brunch and coffee (after all the hardship we’d gone through) and have a lie in the park. 20 minutes turned into an hour or two, I don’t know how exactly us girls always seem to take so long. In the fibonacci spiral, the golden ratio can either go the fastest root in a straight line (usually described as the masculine line) or the scenic route in a curved line (the feminine line) yet both end up in the same

The fibonacci spiral

place. This was definitely evident in our methods of getting ready, the boys would be at the door 5 minutes after talking about it and the girls would sit and suggest something on our to-do list... after another 15 minutes of all continuing with our minor routines we’d look up and discuss doing something about it… 15 minutes later, it would start getting done... a few hours later, we all ended up at the door, some just a little more agitated than others... With all the piles of girly clothes, make-up and rolling material that trailed around us, we can’t say we didn’t leave our mark J

Morning snuggles

So we found our breakfast spot and happily sat down outside on that sunny morning of 4/20 in Amsterdam. With our tummy’s grumbling we sipped on OJ and coffee, holding in the moans as 2pm struck, the thought of breakfast seeming so distant and each second feeling like hours. All of our desperate heads turned as the waitress finally walked through the door with plates of English breakfast, burgers and mozzarella sticks mmm, I think that was one of the few moments of silence during the holiday as everyone zoned into the bliss of long-awaited deliciousness. Before splitting the bill, B (an old welsh travelling mate from Asia) joined me in an all too familiar ATM hunt that lead us 20 minutes away through the city to the ‘nearest cash-machine’, on return we were told with a grumpy look that there was a closer and easier option 5 minutes away, haha! 

‘Regression Sessions’ is a great night in London that takes you back to your childhood with ball pits, bouncy castles and altered mind states. The day at the park felt exactly the same, lining up for ice cream, sipping on soft drinks and appreciating each other’s company. The sun danced in front of our eyes and shone through the gaps in the spring leaves that cast funky shadows onto our toes https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_fmKGQ-1we0

Wine night

The day before had been quite the opposite vibe. We’d woken up fairly late after a group breakfast and a pre-festival preparation sesh, made our way on/ off various modes of transport to get to T’s, hurriedly caught up with D and our fellow festival goers and began the day of madness. How great is it when a negative weather forecast is wrong?! ‘Cloudy skies’ were nowhere to be seen as we all got sunglasses out, slipped past security and the wagon-wheel like tables/ chairs and over to the booming stages where Soul Clap, Ben Pearce and Skream were just a few of the names playing (not that we knew who anyone actually was). Flowers, glitter and red lipstick were out so we dropped with desperados and spent the rest of the festival between the fire-hut and the various stages, dancing, laughing and having odd cuddles and deep and meaningfulls with strangers. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zXgwjSfaNSk) It struck 11pm and the festival timer dinged so we went from semi-naked to fully clothed as the winter winds blew through the flat plains. We were herded like cows through the industrial-looking grounds, past the coffee shop and up to the beautiful apartment that overlooked a canal with about 15 people on toe. Day festivals are great because you can actually get to sleep at a reasonable hour, so curled up in sleepy snuggles, music and flower fumes, we slowly sunk into slumber, C, T and I spooning each other over the one pillow that we happily shared.

Hot tubs

But that was all before the journey! Getting to Amsterdam had been a struggle and a half. The complaints were kept to a minimal as we worked through the re-occurring obstacles… A morning of cleaning up from the party the night before took longer than expected, as did breakfast/lunch that got pushed back to about 3pm. Our ideal plan was to leave at 6pm so we get to the station only to realise that the train tickets needed to be printed off at home so J and J won the ‘most productive couple of the day’ award in sorting that out, having to de-tour as the internet wasn’t working etc. etc. etc. Loooord almighty.

B!

Meanwhile… the rest of us sat quite happily in the sun surrounded by flowers outside of Groningen station, looking fairly hobo-esque but keeping it casj with a few tunes on the computer and hot drinks from Starbucks. It took us about an hour of huddling up against the wind and watching the sun slowly disappear as we covered ourselves with super thin hippie cloths until someone suggested that to stay out of the cold, we could actually sit inside Starbucks, so for the last 10 minutes we regained a bit of the lost warmth until the others returned. Hours later we were on the train, trekking through Amsterdam with our big backpacks, bags of blankets and festival gear. A coffee shop was our second-last/ essential destination… ahh we made it! We then realised there were 3 ‘dampkring’s’ in the city and our friend ‘A’ who was collecting us, was at a very different one in a very different location… just our luck. We lay on the street outside the coffee shop at 11pm, the flash of C’s polaroid lighting up the scene for a brief moment to capture the excitement in our faces as ‘A’ stayed true to his  Dutch roots and rolled around the corner on his bicycle. We all shared long hugs, feeling with slight confusion how manly 'A' was after a year out of high school.

Balcony sesh's

Festival spider

The green peace boat that had been
freed from Russia

With laughs of exhaustion and hysteria we lunged with the weight of our bags and stopped at the nearest, yummiest looking pizza place that was soon followed by a flowery SLUMBER PARTYY. Before falling asleep, the OG kush rode with the laughter wave that passed through the room and bounced off the walls, hitting us all multiple times until exhaustion was our only defence. I woke up in the living room of A’s new furniture-less house, groin to groin in the centre of the blow-up mattress that was concave in the centre, somehow touching the ground because of our weight and inflated on the periphery leaving us all lying at very awkward angles. M was curled up on the armchair with all his clothes on from the night before and J & J had slipped off the padded beanbag and onto the floor below… the laughter resonated in the room and healed the broken sleep.

DGTL

There’s something about catching up with friends after high school that’s never quite the same. Well, either it is or it isn’t. It’s so easy to get along with people you’re taking the same subject/ course as because conversation can revolve around it, but once that common denominator’s lost, you really feel who you’re able to re-connect with when conversations can go beyond small talk… The talk of this holiday went above and beyond small, on our first night in, after a cycle around the city and a few warming rays from the afternoon sun, J and I picked up C and got into our bikini’s, B (another friendly KL face) told us of her amazing project that she described as a ‘human library’, an event enabling people to talk face-to-face with individuals who’ve experienced prejudice, they get to tell their stories and the audience gets to soak it in.

The journey to Amsterdam

Multi-coloured vino flowed and we soaked into the bubble filled hot tub with fairy lights draped on the outskirts of the room until a very drunk C returned from his frat-party and joined in. Dancing, polaroid’s, naughty snap chats and old cheesy 90’s tunes were soon cranked up as we drifted off in the wee hours of the timeless morning.

Venturing out the following day, our coins stayed buried in the bottom of our wallets during a slightly failed festival-shop but did leave the shopping mall with something, speeding out of there as the next victim to enter the bathroom held an impressively composed expression… Coffee shop next for a civilised puff and a coffee. It’s always interesting watching the people that go into coffee shops, is this their break from work, a sesh with their friends or a date? It’s so nice that the paranoia and grungy atmosphere turns into a… Buddha bar of sorts… Losing track of time, yet again, dinner took a while to sort out, and just as the house-party guests began to trickle in (3 hours late), us girls were just sitting down to a dinner of black bean chicken and a glass of wine. The sex divide was evident as boys hovered around the beer pong table in the corner and we all tuned into the girly vibe, getting deep and dirty. Plates cleared and we commenced the mingling. Party chat went from questioning ones identity to the structure of our political system to whether one would rather be a tree or a cloud until my brain could take no more so boogie, love, desperados, down.

The group!

Polaroidss

I hope the lack of chronology emphasizes the timelessness of a holiday. I have 2 hours to go out of a 17-hour journey via buses, trains, scooters and ferries but it was only £50 return J. I will say, to anyone making the megabus journey to Amsterdam go in the day as the Euro tunnel is open and the journey’s a lot smoother. Somehow I made each bus about 5 minutes before departure, gained back my passport after misplacing it twice and re-kindled flames with my girls and a few new friends. I’ve just been turfed out of the best seat on the bus by a persistently rude man who I have no energy for, so instead I let down my guard, move back a seat and gaze over the lush English countryside on Easter Monday of 2014, thinking how beautiful life is and how sometimes it just takes a holiday to remember it again.

Wilderness

The beautiful lake
(Picture from Wilderness FB group)

'Bling', the familiar sound of a new email, yeahhh baby! A confirmation of my Wilderness ticket for 2013. I feel like you have to do at least one festival a year, so in exchange for a free ticket, I had to do 2 shifts catering at this years banquet with 2 of the hottest chefs in London, Hix and Ottolenghi. What a deal! One of my best friends T from KL was interested too so soon enough we were both on board and immersed in the pre-festival rush.

Empire of the sun performing in the sky
(Picture from Wilderness FB group)

I'd packed my bags, ticked everything off the list, tent, glitter, disposable camera, sleeping bag, draw, wet-wipes.. T and I were heading to Wilderness 2013 but "the real jewel in Wilderness’ crown is Cornbury Park itself (one of the most ancient forests in Britain today): the estate has an enduring beauty and a sense of untouched grandeur. World-class, 800-year old deer park encircled by a ribbon of ornamental lakes. And whilst the lakes and forests provide the perfect backdrop to while away the daytime, so open fires and candle light provide a perfect accompaniment to an evening of outdoor dining and live music." (wildernessfestival.com). 

First day eeek :)

(Picture from Wilderness FB group)

We arrived in different cars, carpooling with strangers who were heading to the festival as well, for £8 return via 'gocarshare.com'; a great way to avoid the £60+ train fare. S and M (excuse the pun) helped me with my bags and I set off to find the ticket booth, with a semi-flexible time frame of 30 minutes before the sun went down and the booth closed. Unfortunately, it just so happened that I began on the opposite side to where I needed to be, and with no wrist band to take the short cut through the festival, I had to walk the perimeter of the beautiful grounds - a lovely walk if you're not in a rush & carrying heavy bags, always a downside to festivals. But I got there! And in front of me were the high pitched voices of excited girls working for the same catering company as I, for our weekend of madness. I collected our wristbands and sat on the grass - When technology becomes unavailable, meeting up with people suddenly turns into total disorder. I suddenly gained so much respect for all the past generations who'd managed to stay in touch without phones or internet. Fighting the urge to pee, I stayed with my mound of luggage hoping T would arrive in the same spot as I. Surrounding me were groups of chilled out rastas wearing their green, gold and red; toffs in their polo necks and hunter boots, flower filled hippies with crystal balls and delighted children running between the ancient trees. This festival was the perfect allegory for the ability our country has (at times) to function as one, despite our differences and eclectic class system. T arrived, shaggy haired and weighed down with his multiple bags and we trekked over hills, back and forth until 'crew camping' spread itself in front of us. We chose a spot to pitch our mobile home for the next 4 days: 
. near a tree
. in front of a caravan/ a little blue car 
. about 200m from the portaloos

Fancy dress in the reading tent

I tried to make a mental note in fear of my constant weakness of getting lost (but despite my efforts, I still roamed that camp site for about 15 minutes each time I tried to find our tent *sigh* .. I swear it's genetic). 

Alice's tea party
(Picture from Wilderness FB group)

We lay out the pegs, highly aware of the slowly approaching darkness, discussing all the things we'd rather be doing. But we managed! Just as the temperature dropped and everything around us suddenly disappeared. Shit, no torch.. the list of all the essentials we hadn't brought suddenly  grew a page. Patience is a virtue that we needed at that point, due to the fact that everything we did took 10x as long as it should've. Sight is our strongest sense and that deprivation creates such disorientation, meaning touch has to become everything. What did that white shirt feel like? What wrapper were those cereal bars in again.. ugh not the deodorant. The incense burned and the plumes of flower filled smoke curled up to the centre of our tent as the dim light of a slowly dying phone glowed in the corner. Rice cakes and hummus would have to do, a seemingly simple snack but somehow I managed to spread the hummus over just.about.everything, woops! :)

Swimalims

We braved the cold and crawled out of our tents. The 'innocence' crew were our neighbours, a total bonus when you're being handed free smoothies every morning to replenish a bit of everything you'd lost the night before. We walked across the wet, muddy grass as the notorious British drizzle began and the grey clouds greeted us again. We could smell the whiffs of fried garlic and pot noodle as people covered up their pots and pans and portable stoves. One thing about festivals now, is the prices, you pay for the ticket but that just allows you a bit of walking space. The rest, all has a price tag, and it's the perfect place for a business as you can charge whatever kind of extortionate fee you want (because it's not like the majority of us come that prepared). We'd accepted it though and tucked in to the one or two amazing £5 - 15 pound meals a day, the choices were brilliant. There was a meatball stand where we munched on spinach, pork and ricotta meatballs with wild rice and tomato sauce, mac n cheese, chorizo wraps, English breakfasts, burgers, pizza, award winning Indian curries or Buddha bowls. The food was scattered around the festival and it took us 4 days to figure out everything that was on offer. Outside each little cove of stalls were hay stacks and grass to spread out on, some areas sheltered, some not. During the day you could check out the forum tents, the comedy arenas, roller discos, bubble shops, banquets, clothes, make-up tents and wood-working stations. We spent most of our time by the lake when the sun was out, lounging on the edge and soaking up the vitamin D before the clouds took it away in exchange for goosebumps. The lake was freezing and full of weeds but once your body got moving the warmth spread comfortably. Dotted on the side were beautifully built, round, wooden sauna's that could be enjoyed, for £30 an hour... The steam rose from them as their victims threw their heads back and watched the clouds flying by. Early morning was the nicest time for a swim, the nudists stripped themselves of their layers and dived in, the 20 year old lifeguard making an effort not to peak as he scanned the vicinity from the big fallen log. But that all came the next morning. We'd spent our first night just observing, wondering around, looking in shame at the crumpled up beer cans that littered the floor and shrugging off the odd drunkard that would find their way onto our shoulders. The music hadn't started yet and only silhouettes of huge crane-like structures, stages and rides could be seen, their secrets not to be discovered until morning came..

(Picture from Wilderness FB group)

(Picture from Wilderness FB group)

We made our way back to our tents, delirious and thankful for the warmth of our sleeping bags, the blow-up mattresses were arriving with my cousin the next day, so the lumpy floor would have to do for a night. I woke earlier than T and left him sleeping to stretch out in the lake, the drizzle hadn't subsided but an hour later, when T's sleepy head poked itself into the day, the sun spread its warmth over the camp-site.  Strums of guitars could be heard around us and the festival gear was out, glitter, fluorescent lycra and funky masks - I looked around me wondering what other lives these people lead before they stepped over the barrier. It was a 4 day break, and having been working myself, I shared their relief. The three themes of the festival were 1) La Belle et la Bête 2) Masquerade ball and 3) Dance of the vagabond dreamers (1920's esque) but anything extravagant and colourful would fly.

Chef Ottolenghi and Sammi
(Picture from Wilderness FB group)

Crunchy granola with deep red strawberries & yoghurt with a warm mocha was enjoyed for breakfast, followed by a wonder through the fairy garden, the yoga huts and gongs, a guided meditation and a game of badminton or table tennis. How civilized! The gypsy kids were doing flips and practising their performance for later, giant bubbles floated by, catching every colour of the rainbow as they drifted over the trees, producing smiles and reflecting off of wide eyes before they popped and became one with the air. The 3 pieces of clothing we had to bring for the banquet were jeans, white T's and converse. T forgot the main component so we headed off on a jeans hunt, with one or more doubts as to what we'd find. But karma was on our side and a jeans shop popped up, right next to the winter jackets that I swarmed to. The owner of the shop was a happy man that day, as the coats and jeans dropped away one by one and everyone got a little warmer each time, including us. 

Salmon on rye - catering at the banquet
(Picture from Wilderness FB group)

Into the banquet tent we ran and work-time began. The next few hours we bonded with our fellow workers, it was paradoxical being in festival/ work mode as we went from jokes to serious tasks, balancing wine glasses on trays and serving food without dropping it all over the animated guests that had paid £75 for their meals.. Ottolenghi was the chef for the first night, a vegetarians favourite - sweet beetroot salads, salmon on rye, rosemary potatoes, lamb shanks, wheat-free chocolate fudge cake - it never ended. By the end of service we were all completely loopy after having downed a few wines before they got chucked into the alci bucket. We laughed and stumbled into the tent, munching on the mounds of leftovers that'd been saved for us. Eating was the last thing on our mind, so with our new-found group, we bumped and skipped our way over hills and tent pegs to the little circle, watching the transformation of caterers to wacky festival goers. The wigs and costumes were out with a splash of M and C. Spinning to the sound of the beat we ran and joined the rave in the secret valley. All you could see was a wave of people, crazy costumes and wide eyes, all green and elevated due to the bumpy hills and funky lights. From stage to stage we hopped, dancing the night away until the silent 2am alarm went off and the music stopped.. when you stop dancing your body heat noticeably lapses and the light of the fires called our name. We squeezed in to the tight circle surrounding the powerful heat of the white embers and blue flames. Folky tunes began and I looked across from me, at a familiar face that I couldn't quite place. I shuffled over to him "do you know Eden? The forest rave in Koh Phangan?" "yeah.. we live there!" And in that moment, a sense of fate was shared. Amidst the thousands of people, on the other side of a fire in Oxfordshire, England, I had just bumped into the musical, eccentric twins, that months ago I had shared a sunrise together with J. after an all-night-all-day rave in a remote area of Thailand, on the other side of the world. For the rest of the night we caught up, appreciating the lick of the flames on our cold skin, before sleeping soundly until morning. 

That faux fur coat saved me.

Bumping into the twins <3

Saturday was our day off and we had until 11.30am on Sunday to recover before our afternoon shift with Hix. So we went for it, a morning swim, breakfast and a sesh, bumping into new friends and checking out the secrets that were still revealing themselves. And then at 5pm it all kicked off. From funk to orchestras to jazz to house we danced till our legs could take no more, stopping off at the water-filling stations that were always jam-packed. I spotted a beautiful owl mask worn by E, my older cuz who was jamming it out with his girlfriend and crew. Sticking with a group brought with it both stress and security. Staying together was tough but finding people you thought you'd lost was fun. The night ended rather messy as I woke up to the door of the cubicle, inches from my nose, realizing I hadn't quite made it to my tent before my eyes had shut. I wondered the fields in the darkness, tripping over tent peg after tent peg and rustling the sleeping tents as I clumsily struggled to stay awake. Damn it! I'd tripped again, but then I realized they weren't tent pegs this time, but 2 legs, that hadn't quite made their way into the tent either. T had passed out in the entrance of the tent and I crawled over him, fully dressed & made-up, passing out on whatever softness I could find.. oh dear. A man in a neighbouring tent had a serious snoring problem that was always one of my auditory landmarks whenever I was lost.. but that Saturday night, no snoring was gonna keep us awake! We woke up on Sunday feeling remarkably fresh, having slept at least 8 hours and not spending the whole night in a manky festival toilet cubicle :s. 

The sanctuary
(Picture from Wilderness FB group)

We gave ourselves the perfect amount of time to chill and enjoy a leisurely breakfast before our shift. This one went slower than the rest, it's tough working when it's a beautiful day outside but I guess everyone has to deal with that now and again.. just not so much in England. Buttering bread, stabbing chickens and placing gravy was the appetizer on our menu but we munched through it with vigour and grace until the witching hour struck and we all sat down happily in the sun, enjoying a big plate of Hix's fabulous food. Beer sticks, jellied ham, roasted chicken, grilled vegetables, soda bread and eton mess, mmm. Trays of food were still left once we'd had our fill so T and I filled cups of strawberries and placed them neatly in a box with a sign that read '£1 strawbugs!' We went around the festival, selling soda bread and strawberries for £1 each, and after 15 minutes, we'd made £40 and funded our night ahead. Collect phones from charging station, drop, get dressed, party. And went our last night. We discovered a tent in the neighbouring field that was full of various concoctions and spells, and soon we were under one. I ate olives under a tree and watched the sky turn from cartoon to reality as T and I struggled to communicate, snuggling under the random sleeping bag that lay overlooking the lake. People were generous that night, and despite a few mean looks, we were given everything, from masks to love to sleep. 

A spectacular end
(Picture from Wilderness FB group)

We'd packed up pretty much everything the night before, so only the tents, sleeping bags and mattresses needed to be zipped up. On with the bags and off with our heads we waved goodbye to the characters of Alice and Wonderland that had greeted us the night before, the fantastical entertainment, food and people. Hopping into our carshares we journeyed home, anticipating the Tuesday blues and the post-festival depression. I walked through the door, had a hot shower and lay down. Had that really happened?

Artist of the day: The Correspondence

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MZukiRrYROA