You wouldn't think it to look at me now but I've served my time under canvas in muddy fields: Reading, Knebworth, Milton Keynes, Donington, Port Vale (yes, the football ground - saw Motorhead and Ozzy there!). Oh yes, I was quite the rock chick.
NTS was finding it hard to imagine his respectable parents rocking out, so I've been digging through the photo albums to find some proof (these are from 1978).
|Striking a pose. Check out those flares - and the cars!|
Looking back has in a strange way reassured me about the safety aspects of his impending adventure. In my day, we would take flags into the arena mounted on dangerous, pointed sticks so that we could locate our friends again after the expedition to the toilet or beer tent. Today NTS will simply text his mates if they get separated. (Apparently there are phone charging points at Reading, would you believe.)
We drank whatever we wanted from whatever container we wanted, whereas these days there is no glass in the arena (and I know that this is partly so that they can sell beer at inflated prices inside, but it's still safer) and there's free water for all.
We pitched our tents in a circle and had a communal bonfire, and used Primus stoves to heat up dodgy sausages.
|Rockin' to the Tygers of Pan Tang|
We left all our stuff in our tents and never had anything stolen; NTS will be able to available himself of a locker (!) and the police are giving out free lanyards to keep phones and wallets safe.
He and his mates will have a great weekend, whatever the weather, and I won't fret about him at all while he's away. Honest.