Last weekend, the husband and I trekked down to
So alas, we arrive. Filled with anticipation, we queued with the throng of people already gathered in front of us. There was lively chatter, everyone excited and waiting patiently to get in through the gates. And only a few minutes later, we were in!
From afar, you could hear high pitched shrieks coming from those brave enough to go on the amusement rides. Husband and I look at each other and decide we're actually quite chicken and give the rides a miss. Looking further on, there are food stalls littered across the perimeter of the park selling substandard yet over-priced nosh, and an assortment of booths selling everything from medicines to official merchandise.
First thing we do is head for the O2 Blueroom, a special section of the park where O2 customers (like myself) get to chill out, relax, have a drink, watch bands play, but most of all, have clean toilet facilities with running water - the Holy Grail in these kinds of events. Husband plonks himself comfortably on a big white leather sofa, while I go to the bar and get us some drinks.
And just as we were settling down, the heavens open. And it pours down like there's no tomorrow. Like sad and lonely people, we sat glued to our soaking wet sofa as we got absolutely drenched. Everywhere you looked, people were either running for cover or creating makeshift raincoats out of carrier bags. The rest, just like us, just sat in the rain, eating soggy sandwiches from Sainsburys. We were having so much fun - and it was only 2pm.
When the rain eventually stopped, the husband and I looked at the schedule for the day, agreed to only go to the coolest, hippest, must-see acts and so made a beeline for the XFM tent. As we squeezed ourselves in, the smell of sweat, stale beer and even staler weed engulfed our nostrils.
Looking like a sardine tin overflowing with fish suffering from Attention Deficit Disorder, the tent was buzzing with pocked-marked teens, uber-cool yuppies and size 0 WAG-types who spend too much time in the tanning salon. We made our way (with much struggle) to get as close to the stage as possible, and as we got to about the fourth row from the front, I was gutted. I felt positively geriatric being surrounded by a sea of kids who looked like they were just born as I entered uni. All of a sudden, my youth seemed like a million years away.
The excitement reached boiling point as Calvin Harris entered the stage. The atmosphere was positively electric - this was going to be ace! But as the first song started, I found myself being kneed, trampled upon, shoved, poked and absolutely violated. Haven't any of these people ever heard of personal space?! Halfway though the second song, I simply had enough and the lovely husband (who by the way, didn't look any better) took pity on me and led me to the back, where the more sensible crowd milled about, enjoying the music without being assaulted. Even as Digitalism rocked the tent after Calvin, we decided we liked the music without being subject to actual bodily harm. After two hours, we had enough of the XFM tent and retreated to the O2 Blueroom. Back to comfortable seats, clean loos, and ice cold beer. Bliss!
At the end of it all, we were tired, hungry, and smelt positively awful. Half my toenails were dead and both looked worse for wear. And yet, we both agreed that it was one of the best things we’ve ever done together. As we made our way back to the hotel, we started making plans for the future…O2 Wireless Festival 2008 – One More Time.
