Bestiv.all good things must come to an end

Bestival 2008 was my last ever festival. It was at approximately 7am on the Saturday morning that I realised I’d had enough. That the years of knocking down fences, traipsing through mud, starving myself to avoid using the toilets, choosing to drink strawberry cider, £200 to camp in a field, flat batteries with no mobile signal, destroyed tents, damaged bodies, burnt out brains and lost souls had come to an end.

And so, sadly, had the evenings of Orbital, the nights with Darren Emerson, magical dawns at the stone circle, wristband swaps, Underworld, Kasabian, Smashing Pumpkins and acid for free, big belly laughs, grazing and lazing in the sun, enjoying the dirt, smoking and dancing and smiling, Beastie Boys, South London pals and the Reverend Al Green walking on stage in the middle of Glastonbury and screaming ‘Hello London!’ After thirteen years of festival action it was finally time to hang up the wellies.



It was a combination of factors that led to my decision that first morning. I was alone, dehydrated, hungover and a little chilly. My only pair of trousers lay caked with mud on one side of my bed, my only jacket soaked heavy with rain on the other. My wallet was £100 lighter while the wind that hadn’t abated since we rocked up was buffeting my tent so badly I feared the roof would tear off while I lay there.

The rain that also hadn’t let up since I’d battled to put up my tent on the Friday was still pelting down. Although not as bad as Glasto’05 as this time my tent did its job and was holding up rather nicely despite severe misgivings I was at the very least dry. Unlike the evening before when heavy thunderstorms forced us to dive for cover on several occasions.





We’d received ample warning that conditions were going to be ‘challenging’. For once the Met office had got it right as the dire weather forecasts leading up to the event proved more than correct. And the weather when we reached Southampton at 7am on the Friday didn’t augur well.



And by the time we reached the campsite it was starting to rain heavily with the wind whipping up nicely. All of which made putting up our tents such a test of skill and dexterity that it made me think of nominating it as a new sport for the 2012 Olympics.

Thankfully Bestival is a friendly sort of place; one of the reasons we enjoyed ourselves so much the year before and a bunch of strangers helped us out. And after we’d put the tents up, had a walk around we went back to our base and started on the red wine I’d brought along. It was a nice moment and to mark the occasion the sun finally appeared which led to 20,000 people cheering up and down the campsite.

For the first time since our 5.30am wakeup call it was time to relax. We’d arrived, the weather looked good and we chilled out inside my four man tent watching the world go by and waiting for the others to arrive. As it was we ended up sitting inside our tent through the only two hours of sunshine that we’d see for the next 24.





Luke and Tash joined us soon after and pissed on wine and rum we helped them put up their tents. And not a moment too soon as it started to tip it down once again. This time we were drunk and found the situation fairly amusing as we huddled under a lowered gazebo. All the gazebos had had their legs shortened. The reason for this was the nightly high winds; which had deposited them all over the field. One girl we overheard said that hers had been blown off in the night and they hadn’t been able to find it. Which gives some idea of the strength of the wind hitting the Isle of Wight that weekend.





Taking advantage of a clear spell we left Luke and Tash to arrange their stuff before wandering back into the main area with plans to meet up later that evening. We didn’t see them, or anyone else, until 6pm the following evening.

What we did see a lot of was pissing rain and despite being veterans of hard time moments at festivals after a couple of hours of extreme soaking (another possibility for 2012) all three of us hit the wall.

While waiting for Richard to come back from the toilets it started hammering it down. And as we had no shelter we all got drenched. It was dark, cold and as we made our way to the Big Top our moods worsened and a severe sense of humour failure was experienced.

Once in the shelter we all started shouting a lot about our lot. We were so fucked off we even considered going back to the tent. It was eight o’clock. We’d reached the tipping point and we all stood there in the gloom waiting for a band we’d never heard of to come on.

But instead of admitting the defeat that crossed all of our minds we dipped into our manbags and produced more rum and red wine. Abandoning our no smoking policies we purchased cigarettes and tucked into vodka jellies that a random was selling at the back of the tent.

The answer to the problem was alcohol and lots of it. We got slaughtered and spent the remainder of the evening staggering around, failing to find our mates, awaiting bands to appear on stage, getting drenched, eating overpriced food and cleaning Annabelle after she fell over in the mud. It was hardly a classic evening’s entertainment.

And so my moment arrived. After years of watching friends reach their own personal limits at festivals in 1998, 2005 and 2007 I hit mine the morning of the first day of Bestival 2008. The love affair was over.

But that’s not to say I didn’t have some good times throughout the remainder of the festival. Similar to Glasto 2005 things got easier as it went on. But if the major bands we had come to see weren’t playing on the Sunday night it’s likely I would have gone home a day early. But as it was we soldiered on.





Saturday was another grim day with frequent showers. And most of it was spent looking at the time and wondering when it would be okay to start drinking again.

After a short stroll up to the bandstand and a tasty fishfinger sandwich (that isn’t an analogy) we succumbed to the inevitable and bought a couple of brews. Our mood started to rise and even another strong shower dampened our bodies but not our spirits as we sought shelter in nearby bushes.





After spending the previous night sending and receiving several thousand unsuccessful texts that went along the lines of ‘where are you?’ ‘am by the big tent, second pole from the front’, ‘am near main stage, just to the left but can’t see you’ ‘see you by the entrance at 9’. We actually managed to meet up with Gabe, Oli, Joe, Rohan, Dave D and the others.

And I had a really enjoyable evening as unlike the one before several bands and dj’s were playing that we actually wanted to see with the highlight being The Nextmen in the Bollywood tent.



But after the sleepless nights before and the early starts I was knackered and headed back to my tent just after midnight for a good ten-hour sleep. It was exactly what I needed and another example of why camping weekends are for me a thing of the past as while I write this ‘blog the thought of that sleep feels me with more than pleasure than nearly every other incident I’ve mentioned.

Sunday saw me awake in far better spirits than that of the morning before. Like the year previous I’d brought a huge double airbed & duvet and unlike Bestival 2007 I’d brought a four man tent (for one) rather than a two man tent (for two) which meant I could happily stretch out at every opportunity. Bountiful amounts of snack bars, fruit, hula hoops and bottled water meant I was more than happy nestled away in my corner of an ever increasingly muddy field.

Richard and Annabelle on the other hand were struggling. Stuck in a smaller tent than mine their opening flap was caked in dirt, they had a hole which meant a constant stream from one side of the tent to the other and their moods were worsened by the fact they were forced to blow up their airbed every night by mouth as it had a puncture and the airbed pump didn’t work. Happy days.



The picture above wasn’t their tent but you get the idea. I don’t know what they were moaning about to be honest. It could have been a lot worse.



By the time we got ourselves into gear it was approaching midday on the Sunday and once again we found ourselves trekking along to the bandstand area attracted by the taste and smell of the fishfinger sandwiches we’d tucked into the day before.

When we got there we bumped into Gabe, Oli and Dave D who was busy trying not to laugh at his girlfriend Megan who’s just fallen into the mud. It meant he had to leave us to go back to their tent so the five remaining chilled out in weather approaching acceptability. And as we relaxed in the sun we were given wristbands which granted us free gins at one of the tents.

Despite misgivings due to hangovers we ventured in and were greeted by the unusual sight of Sanjay of Eastenders fame simulating sex with a purple flamingo. I kid you not. It made for an interesting hour or so and while we couldn’t get a photo proving how far a man can fall we did get one of us posing inside a picture frame and also one of Sanjay.





The weird thing about Sanjay is that when the group of us had been up to Edinburgh in 2004 he’d been there then as well. Strange.

Now that we had gin in our bellies and a text from Luke to meet up we were back on our way. We also had some bands to look forward to seeing. So with something approaching the festival spirit we headed off to the Mohito’s Bar for a catch up with the rest of the gang.



After a few drinks and with the main acts of the night soon approaching those of us who hadn’t left met up to dance to the Freestylers and then onto the main stage for Underworld. For despite listening to their music for approaching fifteen years I’d never seen them live and it was a fitting end to the festival. I couldn’t wish to see a better band on my final foray.

Their set didn’t disappoint and after a couple more brews and a bit of food on the way back that was it for Bestival 2008. And as trying as it had been at times we had enough good memories to make it worthwhile. Thankfully Dicky was driving us back in the morning so we didn’t have a journey from hell awaiting us. And it was another early start before our drive back to London in glorious sunshine. Typical.