I digress

I digress.  Oh yes I do.  For I have been away, and lord forgive me for I have sinned; I did not take the bike.  I totally digress.  I have been to a music festival.  I went, in fact, to Kendal Calling, apparently 2010 small festival of the year or some such voted title that it was proud of.  And 2011 Kendal Calling gets my vote.  Except for the toilets, they are wayyyyy down the pecking order.

Having discovered on my last random biking, driving and kayaking holiday the unexpected joys and pleasures of taking a solo holiday and actually enjoying the hell out of it, it was with some trepidation I headed off to a festival.  Not a new experience for me.  You only have to take a look at me and your mind will go, hmm, I bet she's been to a festival or two in her time.  And you would not be wrong.  This, however was the first middle aged lonesome expedition to a festival.  And I had concerns.  I worried I would spend three entire days with the only words I spoke being please could I have a pint of XYZ.  And thank you.  For manners are important.  I worried people would be bad to me and my tent when they realised I was alone and defenceless.  I worried about meanness of youth. 

In reality, all was good.  More than good.  It was excellent.  I could chose which stage I wanted to go to and when.  When I got there if I listened to a track or two and wasn't entirely convinced I didn't have to spend any polite time with friends hinting at the fact I thought they were shit - I could just move on.  I ate what and when I wanted, likewise drink, likewise bed time and rising time.  Couldn't have had a better time.  And I did speak to people.  People queuing for toilets, people queuing for water, people sharing my tortilla chips.

Marvellous time.  But not a cycling related post for which I do apologise.  I will get right on it.