Whoever Would Go On A Holiday Where You Build Your Own Accommodation? Me.

Tomorrow morning, roughly around 5am, you'll find me sitting in my car, making my merry way to Berkshire. When I get there, I plan to abandon my car in a field somewhere only to proceed on foot to a river. This won't be the most fun thing I'll do all day, considering that I'll be carrying four days' worth of clothes/food/tent/spare socks with me. After I've crossed the barren wilderness of middle England, I'll take the expedition across the river that's, oooh, about 10 feet across. Following that, I expect to make the arduous trek across yet more fields to find yet another field. At this point, having not given up and tried to find somewhere with plug sockets and a roof, I will spend what will feel like millions of years building a tent; which must be the hardest thing to build at 8am after exploring the desolate land west of London since the Pyramids! Then, I plan to live in this construction without the aid of such necessities as Broadband or Chewits or fridge-freezers for four whole days while I listen to a lot of well-paid people have a sing-song. Then I go home.

Yes, I am going to the Reading Festival!



Now, I have talked about this large-scale shindig before, but I think it needs revisiting; mostly because I'm going to be experiencing it from the other side of my comfortable fence. You see, I've been to Reading Festival (and Glastonbury as well) many times, but I've been one of those guys in the orange hi-vis jackets on the gates: a Steward! In fact as you read this, these people are there right now, being all talked to about 'elf and safety, being super nice and having a super time, all ready for my imminent arrival. I've been met with odd looks when I tell people that I've worked at these places, but let me explain why: first, I would get free entry, which is far better than paying £180 for a weekend ticket, which has gone up by what feels like a billion pounds from last year. Also, I get a separate camping area from the rest of the punters, so I get the small privilege of having some grass left next to my tent all week rather than a mud bath. Free meal tickets go down well, as does being able to get into places that others can't (my cheeky slip into the backstage area I was "guarding" is still one of my proudest moments) plus you get to see just how daft some people can really be.

For example, you're not allowed to bring alcohol into the arena at Reading Festival. I'm pretty sure that this has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Carling sponsor the whole knees-up and have Carling-only bars all along the sides... Anyway, people always convinced themselves that the best idea in the world would be to sneak a bag of assorted cans under the big security doors that I was standing next to. Naturally, security would take these straight away for disposal. By disposal, I mean "for that evening". Then the slightly amusing sight of a defeated slightly drunk reveller standing by the gates with a look of total bewilderment on his face. "But where did cans go"? He was about half as fun as the two drunken guys who apparently really really wanted to get into Glastonbury once. They would somehow manage to make it to the gate, only to be turned away because they were too drunk. So, off they'd meander to the other side of the field, give themselves a pep-talk, an affirming hug, then try again.... only to be turned away again! Kept us amused for hours, that one.

So for the punters, here's some advice from someone who's been on the other side: First, anyone in an orange hi-vis isn't being paid to help you, despite the fact that "helping you" is what they will be doing. They're almost certainly working there on behalf of a charity, and their "pay" is donated to said charity, so be nice. On that note, why not bring a big bag of Haribo or similar and hand them to the stewards on the gate? It'll cost you, what, a quid maybe, but you have absolutely no idea how much it will be appreciated by a group of people that have been working very hard since silly o'clock to make your festival run smoothly. Next, I'm aware that some of you would have planned to get there on the Friday, when everything kicks off. No! Silly people! You'll only do this once, mostly because anyone who has got there after more than 100,000 people have marked their pitch will know that picking the only spots that others didn't want, normally next to the bins or the toilets, isn't the most enjoyable thing you'll do all weekend. Honestly, getting there as early as possible is more than worth missing a lie-in. You have been warned! Lastly, anyone thinking that they'll buy all the food they need at the event better get on to re-mortgaging their houses now: it's properly expensive! Small bottle of Coke? That'll be a small fortune and your left leg, please?

But what always impresses me are the residents of Reading, who happen to live right next door to the actual festival. Personally, I'd be as royally cheesed off as a Royale with Cheese if I'd bought an agreeable 3-bed terrace, only to find that once a year a massive great gig turns up down the road, with hundreds of thousands of people in tow. However, clearly the residents don't mind, especially as they've taken the smart move to set up a barbecue in their front gardens and will be selling burgers and hot-dogs to the hung-over revellers. Or, if their cooking skills are so dire that they can't pour a glass of water without burning it, then they sell t-shirts with band names on it. It's all so nice and polite! Sainsbury's employees get more overtime than they can shake a banana at, mostly because everyone's just realised they don't want to sell their car to buy an ice-cream so the Basics range will do. The pubs will be very happy bunnies, because they'll have an almost limitless supply of happy campers to get drunk, possibly because all their alcohol has been confiscated at the Arena.

And then, at the end of it all, I will dismantle my temporary address and try and pack it into the bag it came in. Now, I'm convinced they use witchcraft to get those tents/sleeping bags into the carry-bags they come in, as anyone who has tried to repack them will find that no, it will simply not fit. I will then place everything else into the enormous rucksacks, and revisit my steps on the expedition back to the car, then drive for millions of miles back home.

Then I will need to book a holiday to relax from such an exhausting weekend! Ideally, somewhere that has a TV and comes with a bed that doesn't require packing away into an infinitely small bag every night!

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