Choose one of the options below:
a) If you are reading this post at 7am - Shaun
and I are probably three hours into a six hour drive to Latitude Festival.
b) If you are reading this post at 11am -
Shaun and I are probably queuing excitedly on a Southwold country road waiting
to park our car in a field.
c) If you are reading this post at 2pm - Shaun and I are probably getting bands of fabric
clamped to our wrists (which will come to signify such a happy time that we'll
refuse to cut them off).
d) If you are reading this post at 3pm -
Shaun and I have probably put up the tent (hopefully without incident or
argument)and are now milling around the campsite village and buying ridiculous
hats from the Oxfam Tent.
e) If you are reading this after 5pm -
Shaun and I will probably be exploring the arena, scouting out vegan food and
filling our evening with inspiring, random and wonderful acts.
Hopefully
the weather will be nice, but regardless of whether we are met by rain or
shine, I'll be wearing my wellies (any excuse will suffice).
At Latitude
2012, our arrival coincided with a day of torrential rain, and by the time we
awoke on Friday morning - our feet sitting in a puddle of rainwater - the
decision to bring a smaller tent seemed less ingenious and more stupid. There
was another 'wet foot' crisis in 2011, when I stepped into a puddle only to
discover my wellies had a hole. With cold and wet feet, and Jo Shapcott due to
start in under thirty minutes, Shaun left me in the Poetry Tent and went off in
search of new socks. He returned twenty minutes later - finding non-wool socks
had been more difficult than he had anticipated - and presented me with a pair
of £7 yellow and black striped socks. We look back on these moments now, where
things didn't go quite as planned, and we laugh...