Feast of Festivals

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Ah yes it’s that time of year again, from May onwards there is a veritable feast of festivals from which to choose without even leaving the county. Time to shake the sand of last summers beach trip from the picnic rug and dig deep into the wardrobe to fine ones festival attire- faded denim, something vintage and hippy for floating around in during the day and not forgetting fleeces, scarfs and thick socks once darkness and temperatures have fallen – this is Hampshire not California after all.

And talking of California dreaming The Husband was definitely born on the wrong continent possibly even at the wrong time. He feels he has missed out on the whole festival era and waxes lyrical about how he’s really really going to Glastonbury this year oh yes he is for sure.

“Too late, they sold out Sandra”.

But not to be outdone he throws himself into Hampshire festivals with gusto. The week before is all about the weather, daily up dates seem to be required and that will eventually determine what clothes he’ll choose and what extras will end up going into my bag.

To my mind we are always a tad early, but hey ho once
there I settle down with my magazine and nail polish and sit happily in the sun sipping cocktails, reading about country living, painting my toes and looking forward to a Buffalo burger.
Star II has been equipped with money and with the arrival of friends my shoulders relax down to where they should be and I feel chilled- I love the summer.

Amid music, chatting and drinking time passes by, Star II returns periodically for renewed funds and general financial negotiations –“Look I’ll give you ten pounds but make it last a while!”

The morning blurs into lunchtime and I will stroll home to walk the Pagan Pup and grab a cup of Earl Grey, (so out there man).

Now the thing is our local festivals are safe environments for young folk to wander around, however not so safe for The Husband as it often turns out.
I must learn not to take my eye off the ball on these occasions, so often someone goes missing.

“ Has anyone seen The Husband?”
“ Yep Sandra he was last seen wearing a tiara and clutching a fairy wand heading in the direction of the beer tent- that was a couple of hours ago.”
Oh god lets hope he didn’t snatch it from a passing child

While I have realised the idea of Glastonbury tickets as an ideal present is flawed- The Husband would need to have some form of tracking device implanted- he also couldn’t be given any form of responsibility for anything; I do feel guilty for he would absolutely love it. But no lets keep it, or rather him, local.

So as night falls on the festival and the anticipation of the headline act hangs in the air. I feel around in the grass for my nail polish and gather up our belongings.
It’s at this point that Star II returns and rummages through the bag for a fleece usually with a concerned look on his face.
“Coffee and a hot chocolate Mum?”
Ah ok it’s THAT time of night. We head off to the nearest Barista and all the time Star II will be nervously glancing this way and that, I feel sorry for the lad perhaps The Husband’s forgotten this year.
Lulled into a false sense of relief we warm are hands on the paper cups when suddenly weaving through the crowd something is sparkling.

The wand is long gone but the tiara although slightly askew caught the lights beautifully if I say so myself.
“ Come on son, we’re off down the front – into the mosh pit with us!!!”
“Mum, really?”
Bless him off he is dragged to be treated to a couple of hours of dad dancing in the crush and it’s only the beginning of the years feast of festivals!

Sandra Pagan

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