The romance of the open air

Every year we do this. And every year I regret it.

Why do I accept this ludicrous tradition of a day out in tents in the Bedfordshire countryside? I live in the Bedfordshire countryside. And I live in a house. With walls. With space where you can clear off into when the neighbours get on your nerves. Whereas in this dark, down by the river, if you clear off into the open air they could quite likely end up fishing you out in Bedford.

So instead I'm in a tent. Sure, I've insisted on my own tent. Stacey Bushes did offer to share, but she was quite keen on "bringing a couple of guests round" later.

And what is it with religious types? Only put them in a tent and immediately the sounds of "Kum Baya" and badly-played acoustic guitars start to fill the air, wrecking the peace and quiet of the gentle countryside. Over in the Hnaefs' tent there's a fight breaking out - something to do with pour Daphne having discovered one of Hnaef's knitting needles in an unexpected corner. But Marston and Goldwort were getting very friendly earlier - which beggars the imagination, gives you a new respect for the effects of country air, and fills that same air with smooching noises. While the sounds coming out of Burton's tent - I tell you, the whole experience reminds you just how awful human beings are. I mean, they're OK in the mass - I love humanity - but the actual, flesh-and-bone real ones are another matter. The individuals - what a shower.

Anyway. I've put my headphones in now. It's Enya's calmest. And I've the cricket bat handy just in case. It's gonna be a long night.