Reading

Reading was messy as usual. Word had it that the torrential rain prior to Sunday had made for a muddy arena. Cue MoneyBen doing what he does every year - running around trying to find wellington boots on Saturday at 19:00 when we're meant to be departing the next day at 10:00. Such is this ritual that even his siblings now say, "Didn't you ring asking the same question around the same time last year?".

NEVER FEAR! COWBOY BOOTS ARE HERE!

The first photograph is MoneyBen in all his Kangarooskinshodglory. Yes. It's pretty special. Here's a tip - if you want to look NOTHING like anyone else at a festival wear kangaroo skin boots.

We arrived at the festival having left 2 hours behind schedule. Which was pretty much expected by all concerned safe in the knowledge that the next day we'd be working to an almost Germanic timetable courtesy of MonsieurB.

The day was filled with the following:

Tuborg

Lots of it. I indadvertedly got absolutely fucking drunk out of my face. A friend tried to jump me from behind in the dark. I was zen about it cos I was drunk and thought, "If this person is going to kill me just go with it." He didn't kill me obviously. He's my friend. So much so his first comment when I turned around was: Oh my God Subway I have never seen you so drunk.

Bands

Lots of them. We saw Warpaint and Friendly Fires (both pictured). I've seen Warpaint 3 times now and they definitely are improving. I guess it's a bit nerve wracking playing Shepherds Bush when you're not sure what you're doing. But they have the ropes now.

FF were okay. I think the stage was a bit too big for them. Maybe they knew that too as they brought out a welcome distraction of hula girls for their song Jump In The Pool. No, no. I jest. It was for the song Hawaiian Air. Do you see what they did there?

Rumour had it it was the last Streets gig for a while so we made our way to a RAM UP tent to have a look. One may say it was the Tuborg, I would disagree, but I went totally mental for them. I'm not sure where it even came from because they're generally not my bag. The atmosphere in the tent was amazing and somehow Mike Skinner managed to get everyone in the tent to crouch on the floor waiting for the sign to all jump up together. I did it. I enjoyed it. I was sad when it ended.

Muse were as epic as one would expect. By this time I was quite tired. Not drunk. Tired. And I got a bit restless and told my friends that I was bored. Or maybe tired. Or maybe drunk. Then I jumped on MonsieurB's back to see a bit better then someone touched my bum and then my feminist side came out and I clambered off his back (feminists are allowed to use their boyfriends for gig use. It's in the index of the Female Eunuch. Honest) and tried to find the culprit. It was a girl so it was fine for her to touch my bum because she was just trying to help me climb up MonsieurB's back. It was especially fine because she thought I was 8 years younger than what I actually am.

Then I took charge and said we should leave just prior to Muse's closing so we'd beat the traffic (immediately showing my age). As we walked away they started playing Super Massive Black Hole. So then I stopped and started dancing. On my own. Whilst people tried to avoid me. And I tried to dance with them.

Then we FINALLY left. And I fell asleep. And then I woke up. And I was grouchy. And demanded everyone went to bed. Man I was drunk.

We also watched

Interpol - fairly lacklustre and disappointing.

Elbow - good banter, good songs, sun setting, nice.

Death from Above 1979 - Noise.