Carry on Camping. Or Not.

I'm not the girliest of girls, or the primmest of the prim and proper, or the neatest of the neat and tidy, but I don't suit camping for one very simple and highly reasonable reason.

I like to be clean.

Showers at the Reading Festival are about 89,456.9 miles from where we camped. It was very distressing.

So I showered under the water tap in our field. It was freezing cold and I got some weird looks when I shampooed, especially when I thought I would brush my teeth at the same time. I am one classy bird.

Other than that Reading Festival was freaking AWESOME. I danced on someones shoulders, screamed along with Jarvis Cocker, got given a pink hat (a straw one from Tie Rack - POSH), drank too much cider, laughed too much (if there is such a thing), caught the sun on my shoulders and nose specifically, annoyed my camping buddy, got annoyed at my camping buddy, woke up every morning at 8am and considered it a lie in, walked miles and miles, appreciated civilization, lived in my wellies, navigated home/tent drunk using my twat-nav, saw some comedians, saw some people wave their willies at comedians (boy-type-people), fell in love with performances, flash backed to my teens, realized I was no longer a teen, lost some sunglasses, got lost, peed whilst holding my breath and ate barbecued burgers, buns, sausages and wagon wheels. 

I can't wait to see the pictures on Facebook. And probably un-tag most of them. (People don't need to see that.)

Sorry for the lack of Blogs. The reason? I did the math, and....

I work Monday to Friday 10 - 6 (40hours)

Friday and Saturday night 9 - 4 (14hours)

And one or two night a week 7 - 12 (10hours)

I work 60+ hours a week.

I'm a trooper.

Wish I was a trooper with more moneys.

But hey ho.

Going to fall asleep now. Possibly face down in my bar of Galaxy. Enjoy that image. NIGHT xx