End Of The Road 2011: All Growed Up #3

Opening my eyes, I was thrilled to discover I was still alive. And what's this? No enormous, temple-throbbing, skull-splitting, chunks-blowing bitch of a hangover? Okay, bit wobbly, bit weary, but nowhere near the pain I deserved. I jumped out of that zipped door, stretched my arms above my head and gratefully said "hello" to a lovely new day. It had completely pissed it down at about 6am, so loud, belting on the nylon, that it woke me early from my stupor. No sign of that now, apart from the dampness on the field (top tip: campers, don't take a sleeping bag when camping. Take a feather quilt, and get yourself a cashmere jumper and wool socks to sleep in. It may not fan the flames of passion, this outfit, but trust me, you'll feel toasty instead of freezing your balls, or similar, off).

Waiting in the queue for the loo, I overheard a Dad telling his son "...and that's where the word 'urine' comes from". That poor kid. I bet he was thinking "jesus, Dad - you boring freak. When are we getting sorted for E's and whizz?" .

Much sitting round the camp table and drinking of tea:

I take my tea from Barbara Windsor

The sort of chat and laughter ensued that can only come from a bunch of old friends and the slight hysteria a hangover brings. The Fleetwood Mac incident had been over heard by Sarah B, who had also overheard someone singing 'Jerusalem' loudly in the lav next to her. Toilet behaviour of majestic proportion. Miss B also told a story of her MD at work, who, when bumping into one of the agency's newest female clients in a fancy restaurant, went over to say hello, "how lovely to see you, and this must be your husband?", to which she replied, "no, it's my sister". I can't even type this properly now, because I have laughy hands. He sounds like a total loose cannon, this man. There were plenty more superb stories, but don't want this turning into "Well-loved faux pas made by top brass'. There was talk of what sound your breasts would make if they could (why?). Selections included:

• Nads: Parp, Parp.
• Lou: 70s trimphone ringtone.
• Sarah B: Quack, quack oops ( à la DLT/ Hairy Cornflake radio quiz Give Us A Break) - easily the best sound for knockers?
• Helen P: Countdown theme (Richard Whiteley would approve).
• Me: General Lee car horn from Dukes Of Hazard.
• Bernie: we didn't want to denigrate Bernie's lovely tits in this childish fashion.

Once dirty pillow chat was done, time for a bit of music. Sunday at EOTR generally consists of more lying down at the Garden Stage. Arrived to a bit of Lightning Dust. Side project of Amber and Joshua from Black Mountain (easily one of my favourite bands of the past 5 years), they were good, but not Black Mountain (stating the very obvious, a fine trait of mine). Next up, Megafaun. I lay back, thought of England and looked at the now very pretty sky:

Little Fluffy Clouds

They play real sunshine-folk, Megafaun. But lordy, if I have to hear the word 'awesome' one more time, I may shove something hard up the perp's arse. Once Megafaun's 'awesome' quota had got past 6, I was slightly annoyed. Expand your vocabulary, American bands. It's a great language, this English. Use it to the max, dudes. I have been pleased to note that truly brilliant Mr Lamacq echoes my long-felt sentiments in his excellent blog: Going Deaf For A Living. I want to meet Steve Lamacq. And become his wife / best friend / cleaner. Read here:

http://goingdeafforaliving.com/

Time to go before the 'awesome' turned me into a probe-wielding maniac - "Small Northerner In American Indie Band Dildo Murder Shocker". - front page heaven, almost makes you wish for the return of NOTW. No awesome from the gorgeous Willy Mason. He is, but I wouldnt put it like that. Just well-written, beautifully crafted songs sung by a voice that breaks my heart. With the sun now high and bright in the sky, there couldnt have been a nicer way to while away a Sunday afternoon. Bumped into the lovely Lucy Local, who very kindly offered to charge my phone, as it'd been dead for most of the weekend, making communication with the outside world difficult (actually pretty liberating). Moved on to the Tipi, sat in the sun, ate fish curry, a thirst-quenching pint of shandy and some people-watching:

Me mate's well fit, innit (more bunting...zzz...)

I've really noticed how much EOTR has changed this year. When I first came here, 5 years ago, it was a crowd of a certain age (25-45, I'd guess), all really here just for the music. This year, it's much more of a fashion show. Massive numbers of those who've bought magazines telling them how to dress for a festival, gone out and bought it wholesale, now spending a weekend looking slightly fish-out-of-water in bargain-bin Kate Moss-ish kit. My tip: be yourself, not someone you think other people you don't even know think you should be. If you get my drift. And watch the bands. Watch and listen. Don't look around the crowd constantly and talk loudly to your friends, telling them "oh god, this is just SO my favourite band EVER!" then proceed to chit-chat through their entire set. Please. Stop this. Grandma is asking you nicely.

Not sure what happened there. Got a bit ranty. Done now. As you were. Back to the main event.

Bumped into dear Massimo and his foxy Lisa having a potter. Good to see him away from The Haberdashery letting his hard-working hair down. The Haberdashery have been nominated for The London Lifestyle Awards 2011, up against such exalted company as Bar Italia, Konditor & Cook, Patisserie Valerie - well, bollocks to that lot. Vote for a fine little café, with efficient and cheery staff - let's hear it for Alberto! - and two of the nicest proprietors you could wish to meet:

http://londonlifestyleawards.com/vote.php

At this point. there was a venture back for essentials (couple of beers, packet of Jaffa Cakes, 2 Tunnock's Wafers), then into the Big Top for Kurt Vile. He was good, and I managed about 5 songs, but I really needed daylight at this point. I sat around outside, jotting notes in my pad (I love my fountain pen - words look so much better written in proper ink), eating Jaffa Cakes. The sun was going down and the temperature really dropped. Kurt finished his set, bringing the gang out, followed by dear Howard. He was sporting a very nice Rochdale FC scarf (I am pleased to report Rochdale have won today, although they are currently already languishing in relegation zone. Huddersfield Town are 5th, therefore proving their Yorkshire superiority. Take that, Lancashire.)

The Ladies headed back for London at this point, big hugs all round, the skies really darkening. As Josh T. Pearson began his set, the drizzle started. Not easily dampened, the dark-but-wonderful Josh T, as his wit inbetween songs proved - constantly reminding us how dry he was up on that stage. Little bit of festival politics here too, not like that knob Ben Elton, but Josh did ask the crowd if they liked the changes at EOTR, and there were a lot of boos. He's a regular here, and as he made clear, he's not too keen on being drowned out by sound from another stage whilst playing. He asked Simon and Sofia to take note, but not before charmingly adding that he'd like to come back again next year, pretty please. Point noted by the organisers, I'm hoping. That Woods stage has a massive sound system which floats up and totally takes over any quiteter acts on any other stage - whilst listening to Sam Amidon, I really noticed the cross-over and found it a real nuisance. JTP was superb, nonetheless. At one point, he asked for dirty jokes from the audience whilst he tuned his guitar. I left shortly after this, to take in another fave, Midlake. This meant I missed McG meeting JTP in the Rough Trade tent and proferring a dirty joke to him:

"My girlfriend just broke up with me for being too kinky. I almost choked on her shit as she was telling me".

This went down a storm with Mr Pearson. He chortled away, by all accounts, begging for a pen so he could jot it down. Look forward to hearing this filth repeated at his next gig, folks:

Meeting of great dirty minds

Midlake were the headline band the very first Friday I ever attended at EOTR 5 years ago. Van Occupanther hadn't been out so long, and they were a huge standout for me that weekend. Nads had never heard them before, so they were a welcome revelation for her. And yet again, they didn't disappoint. The weather, however, did. It became truly cold and started raining heavily. After much of the set, we just couldn't face standing and freezing our tits off any more, so we got some hot grub and headed for the sanctuary of The Tipi. Result. It was full of people huddling together, steamy body heat warming the air, and we soon found a spot with a hay bale vacant for a curl-up:

Tiny Haystacks

We had a real lull here and despite it only being about 9pm, we started to talk about an early night (I know, I know - ridiculous). Entertainment appeared in a bunch of blokes with a small model aeroplane, throwing it around, and encouraging others to throw it about too. It landed near me. It would have involved moving to pick it up. I honestly couldn't be arsed. But following much encouragement, I did. And threw it right back at 'em. Then, they threw it and it landed in some bloke's plate of chilli and he didn't look too pleased:

The offending article.

In dire need of oomph, we headed to see Brakes. Caught the last few songs. Perfect. They had more energy going on than most bands had managed to summon all weekend. But really, enough is enough. So, we had a quick cuppa, headed back, got curled up and listened to Kate Bush-lite wafting in from the Woods stage. No doubt Joanna Newsom is supremely talented, but as a lifelong Kate Bush fan, I have all I need in one package. Many young pretenders to our Kate's crown, but unless you can surpass her, I'll stick with the original and best, thank you. Lying there on my airbed cloud, cashmered up and cosy as hell, I honestly thought Miss Newsom had persuaded Miss Bush out of hiding to join her onstage at EOTR. I was wrong. It was just JN doing her best KB impersonation (and you can bog off too, Tori effing Amos).

I had the most heavenly night's kip. I awoke fresh and quite prepared for the drive back. First journey back to the car over, decent coffee in hand, and at this point, I received my first offer of marriage of the weekend.

I had to turn it down. My skills at putting down pop-up tents are exemplary. Mine was down in 2 minutes. Watched the handsome/hairy next door struggle for a good 10 minutes until he exclaimed "anyone got a match?". Can't have him setting fire to it, so I suggested he let me have a go. Down in 30 seconds. He opened his arms, hugged me and asked me to marry him. I said I didn't think we should base a lifelong commitment on my camping skills. He seemed disappointed. Another one bites the dust.

With the fishing trolley loaded, we made our last trip to the cars, and I saw one of my favourite sights of the whole weekend:

That's a big bra. FF, at the very least. The thought of a pair of knockers that big wandering round the campsite unencumbered, probably sweeping aside young children and tents in their wake, made me laugh like a drain. It'll stick with me always, the vision of that bra on the yellow car. A fine visual finale to another great EOTR.

(Postscript: or perhaps that should read post-mortem...it'd be churlish to point out too many faults at this year's EOTR. I've clearly had a great time. But it's obviously getting considerably bigger, no longer a small, intimate affair. They really will have to sort the sound clash problem out. Simon and Sofia always said they wanted EOTR to stay small (initially capped at 5000, now at about 8500), but it's their livelihood, and if more people want to attend, then why not? Just not sure that site can take much more without it spoiling the whole point of enjoying the environment at Larmer Tree. Fill it with more stalls, people, tents, and you may as well hold EOTR in any old large bit of open space. And 3500 is a big jump in capacity. Whilst discussing this with Howard Local just now, we both realised how little we bumped into old friends over the weekend. Case in point - whilst leaving the site on Monday morning, I saw Steven 'Singing' Adams. Big hugs, followed by joint amazement that we hadn't bumped into each other all weekend - we usually bump into each other all weekend.

Still, that's hardly something to get a face on about. EOTR have just announced a small baby-sister festival: No Direction Home. This will be held 8-10 June 2012, near Sherwood Forest, with camping beside a lake with views of Welbeck Abbey. Sounds lovely. If the line-up is good, it'll probably be a winner. Makes me wonder how big EOTR will end up, though. Any bigger will be too big for me, and I'll be truly sad to say I've attended my last EOTR. *breaks out tiny violin*)