Our trip down was great. We zoomed through miles of country. On each side, as far as the eye could see, buttercups gently swayed in the breeze, glistening in their ashen glory. Karaoke streamed out of the car as we sung summer anthems.
We arrived in blistering heat; we set our tent up in front of the main stage, behind the stands. I didn't move for most of the afternoon. I gulped several bottles of water. My arms were burning from the kilometre or so from the car park to our spot. We'd taken several trips to ferry everything down; chilly bin, tent, cooker, clothes.
I got some pretty brutal blisters on my feet from my jandals. I decided to ignore them and the pain eventually subsided. I had a small dinner of a bread loaf dipped in feta and spinach dip, the heat had murdered my appetite.
Carey and I wandered up to the Village as the sun was going down. The bright carnival lights and whirling rides with the hustle and bustle induced a weird nostalgia in me. We hung out with Caleb who had tented nearby. We were pretty tired from our trip down, so we went to bed at around 12. As we were leaving Caleb's tent, we saw a lantern that was flying away, with a small fire burning in it. That was the sort of thing I'd have loved to watch as a kid.
I watched a few bands in between all of this; my favourites were yet to come. I jumped in my sleeping bag, with sand from new years still with me, and went to sleep.
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