Wednesday 26/08/09

It's Reading Festival time again, and judging by the number of people who are selling tickets via my Facebook News Feed, it's not as popular as it used to be. I haven't given it a whole lot of thought personally; I've already been to Glastonbury this year, and as it's only really possible to think about one festival at a time, Reading has taken a back seat. It's down to more than just keeping my attention, though, as there is a distinct feeling that I've had enough of it, too.

I'm into my twenties now, which is starting to feel too old to be going to Reading, where most of the overpreened youths are there celebrating their GCSE results. Indeed, that's what I did when I was 16, although I didn't actually go to collect my results, what with being sat in a tent at the time. It seems to me that if you're too old for school exam results, you're too old for Reading. And perving on the 16 year old girls in trendy hotpants feels more wrong every year.

Much of the behaviour there comes from kids who wouldn't know an exam if they were raped by a maths A level. Mindless violence and destruction of communal facilities really puts me off and makes me feel much older than I am. That said, if you can enjoy listening to what passes for most of the mainstage music, senseless vandalism probably makes sense as a nightime occupation.

I've packed the car with 78 beers and enough vodka to blind all of my eyes, in the hope that it'll keep me from being permanently offended by the children around us. If you keep your head down, chill out and just drink yourself into paralysis at night, while managing to avoid tent ropes when going for a pee in the hedge, and during the day sit in the lockup listening to bands you've seen a million times before at the festival, you can have a bloody good time. Albeit at a cost of at least 200 pounds.