Big Chill Kisses

Big Chill Kisses 2009

From my perspective ‘Chill’ was not the appropriate descriptive noun for this music festival, then again my perspective was skewered. It was five in the morning and a medley of Michael Jackson numbers continued to blare from a neighbouring field. In a tent, cocooned in my sleeping bag my memory of the past evening was a blur having lost it somewhere between the main stage, the VIP bar and the mandatory search for flushable toilets.

Guests of the Art Car Boot Fair, we  (Matea,  Kate and myself )  arrived on Thursday ready to set up our ‘One Off Kisses’ Stall, hoping to tempt festival goers to jars of kisses, and pick ‘n mix kiss postcards. We pitched our tent and from this point on the course of events muddied. Literally so, for what followed was rain, torrential rain, mud, more torrential rain, overpriced food, drink and even more mud. I am not, you may have gleaned, a fan of big festivals. Such places seem to me like huge refugee camps. Brand me an old, stick in the … but  I can’t bear being so conspicuously fenced in.

That night I went to bed wet. My head settled on a scrunched-up sweater as the cold of night crept over me and then finally the rain ceased. No more the pitter-patter of drops just the random spill of piss  and eventually sleep.

With the oncoming dawn, something wondrous happened … summer arrived. Blue skies and caressing rays, we were doused in the feel good factor and a big shout out goes to Karen Ashton, who is ‘The Art Car Boot Fair’, our next door stallholders, Kevin  & Becky and those teasing, taxing boys, Damien & David, whose promiscuous charm was generously peddled upon the great unwashed, (i.e. one and all).

Kisses were catching though not quite as a potent as Swine Flu. We sold out of our Oliver Twist Kisses (can I have some more please?) and my voice, was near hoarse from an afternoon of blaring. Wearing the requisite wristband, the VIP bar provided some respite. The evening unfolded, looped and undulated as friends were lost and found and the beauty of the surrounding nature contrasted ever more sharply with the raved out chemically enhanced atmosphere. There was every substance  available  to tempt one astray, all tastes catered for, every lip trip imaginable….

Did  I  pucker up?  Well lets  just say… it you can’t beat them  join them,  in for  penny in for  a  pound  and  other such clichéd  nonsenses. So, my misgivings melted,  I succumbed. Caught  up in the festival mood,  I sampled Basement Jacks, British Sea Power, Friendly Fires, Tim Minchin and a bit of sun upon my face.  Best of all though, my shoes remained waterproof throughout.

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