||[Jun. 28th, 2005|06:12 pm]
Running water is wonderful. As are baths and cereal in a bowl (not a bar).
This means I'm glad to be home but I'm missing the muddy place. Not least remembering turning the corner to the stone circle at half two Wednesday night and seeing a beautiful sea of flames. Camping with lovely people and bumping into many, many more. Every single minute of the Tears. Hugging, holding hands, singing along. Wandering Lost Vagueness at 4am. Possibly the best Art Brut set I've ever heard. The LMHR night. Especially the brilliant Babyshambles set. Who would have thought I'd go to see the Others THREE times? Reminded me why I loved them. "The lights in the sky are fucking moving". Lying on the mud banks of the Other stage in the sun listening to The Dears, particularly Who are you... Special Needs. Of course. Randomly hearing classics live - There She Goes, Waterfall... Watching the sun come up from the stone circle on Monday morning. The singing was great, my need for constant spliffs probably wasn't (sorry Jess). I think I may have pictures.
My brain hasn't arrived back in London yet, explaining the lack of proper sentences here. Nothing has broken through my feeling of mellow happiness. Not the 7 hour drive home nor finding my fridge broken and full of defrosted "frozen" food (I'm a hoarder remember). I think I probably need more sleep but toying with Crash Convention. It can be a hard life sometimes.