Spitting Yarn

I revisited my youth this weekend by spending three days among the pierced, tattooed, bewellied people who are my musical bedfellows. My fourth Reading Festival (the last three being ten plus years ago in 1994, 1995 and 1996). I thought I’d better go again before I enter the ranks of aged folk, and DB hadn’t been to a festival before – another good reason to go.

There were some concessions for age. DB, my friend A and I stayed in a serviced apartment, so we remained largely sweet smelling and clean for the duration of the festival. In fact, there were many concessions. I hardly drank, I stuck to sensible food (which, incidentally, has got much much better since my last visit), and I didn’t go “up the front” (flashbacks of a sticky moment during Green Day in ’95). So, a different experience, but still a great one.

Pearl Jam headlined on Sunday and I finally got to clap eyes on the object of my teenage affections, Eddie Vedder. They were old, mellowed, but still they got the attention of the entire festival and, more importantly, they rocked! Kaiser Chiefs were as lively and fun as I hoped they would be. Franz Ferdinand were slick, but a little soulless. The Cribs were cool.

The Kooks were also fantastic on Sunday, but they were stupidly allocated to the NME tent. Seemingly, most of the festival crowded in and around the guy ropes, and at the end of the set, there was a huge crush as people hurried to Pearl Jam. I saw a poor young girl being passed over people’s heads in a dead faint. Fortunately, it only lasted a few minutes. I’d been in a similar crush in Helsinki during Vappu, so managed to remain cool and go with the flow until it dissapated.

The weather was a typically English affair – sunshine and showers. We were armed with layers of clothing to add or remove as necessary, wellies and pacamacs, so rain or shine, we were fine. It never got too cold or too hot, so we were pretty comfortable for the most part.

A highlight for me was the Silent Disco. After hours, the festival laid on DJs and headphones for anyone still needing a music fix after the days’ acts. It was so funny to watch! People bopping around to tunes we couldn’t hear. Although if you listened carefully enough, they were singing along and you could guess what they were listening to. Unfortunately, the queues were massive, so we didn’t get to don the headphones.

To ease ourselves back into civilisation, we stopped off at the Crooked Billet in Henley On Thames for Sunday lunch. The food was fantastic. I had goats cheese souffle with chicory and red onion salad, roast sirloin of beef and creme brulee with shortbread. After sausage sandwiches and pies (admittedly from the very good Well Hung Meat Company and others), it was lovely to have proper food. It was a beautiful area of the country, and we found it still and quiet after the hubbub of the festival. The grounds of the pub featured abandoned cars, brambles, apple and elder trees and shady patches where Deadly Nightshade grew.

We arrived back in London to the chaos that is the Notting Hill Carnival which is literally at the end of our road. Carnival is a wonderful, noisy and colourful affair. Unfortunately, it seems like this year things have got messy, as they do from time to time. Our flatmate has had trouble returning home because someone (possibly more than one person) has apparently been stabbed a few doors up from us and the police and paramedics are attending. We also heard a number of car windows being smashed in the road along from us. We’re hoping that it won’t escalate.

There has been knitting too, but that will have to wait.