(Decidedly not a post that has anything to do with software development.)

So I’ve never been to a music festival. This is a fact that my new girlfriend (A) was taken ever-so-slightly aback by (along with news that I don’t eat Marmite and prefer coffee over tea - I retain the opinion that her opinions are not yet above suspicion…). So, off to Download for the (last) weekend. This is a heavy-metal, rock, and alternative music festival held at Donington race-track near Leicester. Oh, and we’ll camp.

There’s no internet at this campsite.

I receive a three-page (formatted) word document of stuff that will come in handy, as well as a) which things A already has and shall take, and; b) which things are absolutely essential. In the latter category are things like wellington boots, waterproof trousers and top, warm clothes, sunscreen, and many, many pocket-pack paper tissues. Apparently, in the UK in June, it has been known for campsites to wash away in the torrential misery of rain that happens along, and waterproof trousers will allow for survival (if, perhaps, not a complete alleviation of abject misery while watching the tent collapse into a pool of mud as it rolls down the hill). Well, I took her warning to heart and duly laid hands on waterproof trousers and top, and happily have some sturdy boots of the walking persuasion from my time spent at York University up in the Northern Frozen Wastes of God’s County - colour me prepared (at least, as much as I was going to be).

We drive up on Thursday night (I’ve had the foresight to book Friday and Monday off), and arrive to pitch tent just as twilight is waning - it takes a half hour to walk from the field in which cars are parked to the field in which tents are pitched (apparently there is some festival tradition that dictates the two must be at opposite ends of the site). I fail to trip over any guy-ropes, what with having paid attention to the need to bring a torch. We’re camping in style, too; no sleeping bags for us, instead we’ve got an air-mattress, pillows, and a duvet. And very little space for anything else.

Like the internet.

It’s quite hot, too. As events transpire, I’m feeling rather smug about the fact that all my stuff fits in one small backpack, and all hers fits in one of those travel-the-world backpacker packs - that’s slightly unfair, what with her doing the lion’s share of planning and execution and me only really being along for the ride (and said-backpack lugging duty… ;-) ). I don’t recall a single drop of rain until we were safely in the car for the trip home, late Sunday night. Apparently, the weather report was wrong. Who would have thought? Lucky we had sunscreen; my lily-white skin caught some burn even so.

The music itself was great, subjective an opinion though that is. We saw Faith No More, Def Leppard, Limp Bizkit, Marilyn Manson (does he have to get his supporting band members to sign a contract saying he can abuse them?), Hollywood Undead, a bit of ZZ Top, Trivium, and Prodigy (who frankly, **ing rocked, live!) and a few others. We slept in and missed some stuff we kinda wanted to see, but not badly enough to trump wanting to find a pool to take a swim in (rather than brave the showers). We fairly glowed with smug cleanliness as we rejoined our fellow refuge^H^H^H^H^Hcampers on the site, if I do say so myself…

It was actually very much more civilised than I was kinda expecting! I had a fantastic weekend, even if I’ll continue to tease her about the size of her pack and some other stuff for a little while yet… ;-)