Before I went to the Isle of Wight festival last weekend, I’d
never said those words before.
Portaloos served as the single greatest reminder that
human faeces come in a wholly disturbing variety of colours, consistencies, sizes and
smells. I shit you not (hohoho) I thought I’d pretty much seen all of the gory
horrors that the bowels could ever possibly have to offer from three years of
communal living - I hadn’t. I saw worse, and they weren't always where they belong.
But of course, I eventually learnt this was festival living.
It is living with the human condition in its most candid form; the human without
Herbal Essences, a mirror or a pillow to rest their heads on (and with a sore
neck, from resorting to using a vodka bottle instead).
From the beginning, everybody said I wouldn't be able to hack it. At the time I would feign total outrage - "I'm not a bloody princess, it's no biggie, it's just some camping dude!" - but quietly accept that they were probably right. I am a girl who just really likes her home comforts.
That fact became startlingly clear on numerous occasions over the weekend. Firstly, I had kind of assumed that the British weather would hold out for me. Come on! I'd travelled all the way from Germany to get there! It wouldn't rain, that would just suck. Fair enough, it was mostly sunny over the weekend but during one night the rain fell mercilessly onto my tent, which didn't put up much of a fight. The tent was a one man affair, the manufacturers obviously assuming that anybody who camped alone must be pretty tough - what's a little rain, eh? Well, as the tent collapsed and I lay there with only a thin, cold sheet of material separating me and "nature", I started to realise a little rain could actually result in quite a lot of discomfort. And awful smells.
Speaking of smells, by Day 2 I was beginning to emit some pretty terrible ones, myself. Come Day 3 I was spraying dry shampoo all over me in a desperate attempt to give off something a little rosier than sweat, cider and some vague shame. I began to dream of baths and the aisles upon aisles of exotic soaps, shower gels and fragrances that you never pay much attention to in TK Maxx at the time.
My shameful camping amateurishness aside, the most important and wonderful part of the whole weekend was the music. Seriously, for every moment I spent wide awake at night wondering exactly what
kind of insect had just flown into my ear or noticing just how matted my hair was becoming, the music made all of it totally worth enduring. Honestly, in those crowds you forget that you're living in squalor and look like an extra in Les Mis and become entirely immersed in the brilliant things happening in front of you, instead. Over the course of the weekend I saw Boy
George, Rudimental, Biffy Clyro, Calvin Harris, the Pretty Reckless, the 1975,
John Newman, the Specials and the Red Hot Chili Peppers. As somebody who hasn't been to many gigs, I didn't play it very...cool and aloof about the whole thing, shall we say. I was bloody dazzled by everybody and everything.
The Specials got many a fan girl scream out of me during their set. Despite fairly ticking along in life these days, they interacted brilliantly with the crowd, asking us to show some hate for both UKIP and Luis Suarez (I had to tell my friend who that was, by the way - I am an awfully sporty person, as you all know) Biffy Clyro were also particularly great, even though I'm not a big fan there was no denying they put on a great show. Simon Neil also referred to them as "Biffy FUUUUCKIN' Clyro" a lot too, which I found endearing. Quite amusingly, I got chatting to some friendly Glasgow Uni graduates next to us in the crowd during their set who asked if I went to the Hive - Glasgow uni students, I will let you decide how you think I answered that.
Moving on, despite spending the duration of the show a) close to
passing out from dehydration b) delirious from the heat of thousands of bodies
around me c) unwittingly nestled under a randomer’s armpit, the obvious highlight
of the weekend for me was the Red Hot Chili Peppers, who are one of my all time favourite bands. We were stood around two metres from the stage, so we could literally see the sweat gradually forming on the band members, eeeek! I croaked along to every
lyric; I screamed every time the chords of a new song were played; I died a
thousand little deaths each time I convinced myself that Anthony Kiedis was
looking at ME, literally DIRECTLY INTO MY EYES; and I fell into loving, devoted
silence every time Flea said something inspiring to the audience (every time he
opened his mouth).
So what did I take away from my first festival experience,
aside from a new found appreciation of toilet bleach and an intrinsic distrust of "really good!"
portable straighteners? Well, not to prioritise looking like Kendal Jenner over
being warm and comfortable is right up there. I spent many an hour scouring the
shelves for waterproof mascara, but not enough of them finding actual waterproof
clothing. My faded denim jacket did look quite edgy and rugged, yes, but it
wasn’t keeping me warm in the evenings, and nor were my specially purchased elephant earrings. If I could pass on one nugget of wisdom
acquired the hard way to any festival rookies, it would be this: purchase pillows over pretty dresses. Dress for the purpose of “warmth”, not “wow, I
look edgy, dude!” Buy products that will make your life comfortable, because in the end, everybody will eventually look like they've gone through some traumatic experience - but they'll have some bloody brilliant stories to tell.
But the main thing I took away from Isle of Wight is just how truly wonderful the experience of live music is. My general history of live music has been limited to listening to live albums on my iPod in bed at night. This is completely unlike the insane, elating experience of being part of this huge audience who are just as dizzy with excitement as you are, watching the artists at their most raw and truthful right in front of you. "Mesmerized" didn't come close to how I felt watching the sound, lighting, choreography and music all coming together. I’ve been pretty geographically unlucky in the sense that I've always lived far away from major music venues, so to see so much of it in one weekend? I got the biggest wake up call to what I'd been missing out on.
I would do it all again. Portaloos and all.
