Keep On Trucking

Well, my very first Truck Festival. I'd been avoiding it for eight years now, for various personal reasons, but my band were booked to play, so I figured it was time to put the hatchet away for good. I mean, there's a double edged to small, intimate, slightly incestuous scenes. If you're on the inside of them, it's like being part of a family, supportive and lovely and amazing, but if you're on the outside of them, it's the most alienating thing in the world. Felt like the latter for so long, it was time to join the former.

We went down on Friday afternoon which was, very much, the sensible thing to have done. Had time to wander around Sainsburys buying enourmous vats of wine, and even got to go back when I forgot the rum. Around the South Circular, onto the M4 and away we were, into the country, Kissy Chrissy driving the Silver Machine, Hawkwind blasting on the stereo. Hurrah!

Arrived as everything was being set up, got our pick of camping sites, so we ended up about halfway up the hill, under a lovely tree. Bread, cheese, rum and Country Life. Heaven. Made friends with the cows, put up the tents, turned the inside of the Silver Machine into a paisley partition of paradise. (Sorry, I do not do tents. The last time I was in a tent, Radiohead were playing.) Very chilled, very relaxed. Checked out the festival site and found that we'd got a huge picture and a great write-up in the brochure! Yay for AMP's pants!



Stayed up late on Friday night, just lying out, looking at the stars. Oh, and of course, the Rebel Stars who decided to get together and swoop across the night skies. And the Rebel Stars Mobile Disco, who decided to come down to earth and drive up and down the mud track with swirling disco lights. (Or maybe they were just planes and tractors and everyone was too stoned to tell the difference.) Lots of nature, too! Bats! Bunnies! Swooping bird-bat-creatures! Got a good night's sleep, and then we were ready for the mayhem.

Saturday morning, I woke up to find that Anna had turned up during the night, fresh off a plane from NYC, jet lag and all. we were lying out on the grass, enjoying the drop in temperatures, and then suddenly the sky clouded over and then the CLOUDS BURST. There was a smattering of rain, and we all went running for Steven and Louise's giant 3-room luxury tent. Then, just as it looked like things were letting up, the heavens opened and it was like a scene out of a disaster movie as tents were being blown over, springing leaks and we were crouched, hiding as the wind howled all around. Finally, I gave up, locked myself in the van and slept until the rain was over.

The rain cleared and the sun came out just in time for Brakes, who were, I think, the only band I actually saw on Saturday. It was just far too much fun up at Shimuras Village, drinking wine and going on cheese binges. And oh, the Water Palace that was the backstage toilets. Flush toilets. Running water. Full length mirrors. Wood toilet seats and trim. And just to push it over the edge, Monet prints on the wall. We thought we'd died and gone to festival heaven.



I have to confess I've no idea what we did on Saturday night. Various and sundry Shimuras kept turning up - Marianna turned up looking unfeasibly glamourous for a field. AMP, Lisa and Matthew rolled out of the back of Lisa Mundy's van. Gaz (aka Mr. Chrissy) turned up with his extremely drunken mate Martin in tow. Martin was wandering around with what looked like a bottle of water, but turned out to be straight vodka. No wonder I can't remember much of Saturday except turning to the death metal barn to find Marianna and Ken raving to drum and bass.



Found my way back to the van, re-inflated the mattress and passed out.

(To be continued...)