Totes excited! So many festies, so little time. Brighton first, obvs. Lovely Mikey Rosen with his droopy eyes and populist spin. Have found cerrr-azy sounding kids’ event for Django, called Flathampton – culturally challenging, plus creative participation: perfecto. And Lysander will heart the play I’ve booked for his birthday treat: We’re All Gonna Die.
Everything on the Fringe sounds amazeballs, but so hard to know which will - like last year’s one-woman monologue I Want To Be A Vicar - prompt Lysander to storm out demanding refund. Mind you, he later made me sit through sub-Frankie Boyle ‘comedy’ show during which I was actually sick into my Chloé tote. I said, Lysander, if I want to hear jokes about mental health problems I will jolly well make them myself, thanks very much! Plus you owe me £1100 for new bag.
Gutted I missed Early Bird for Elderflowerfields. Bought Late Bird tickets, then double-gutted to discover it’s on the same weekend as Meadowlands! When I worked at the Battersea Arts Centre, heads would roll for such a scheduling faux pas.
Trotted round town watching the Knots of May do their bell-jangling thang. Lysander, three Harveys down, rudely said that women Morris dancers even less enjoyable than men plus not traditional. Was in midst of eloquent feminist retort, when Django let side down by ripping his flower garland to shreds. Fear his father is engendering the rigid gender roles we’d agreed Django must reject.
Woke at 3am in cold sweat: had forgotten to book Charleston. Rushed to laptop and spent ten minutes blinded by panic into believing that only Melvyn Bragg was left. Thank god managed to get Joanne Harris and Audrey Niffenegger. LOVE Charleston, I will channel Virginia by wearing long cardie. And by sleeping with my friends. Kidding!
Got festival survival kit ready for our Elderflower/Meadowlands weekend (we are dashing between the two). Hunters wellies, tagine, Jo Malone room diffusers.
As we were about to leave, those male swine I live with appeared in headbands and TIE-DYE T-SHIRTS. To complete hideous tableaux, Lysander had taught Django to roll a spliff one-handed, and this is a child who can’t yet tie his laces. (His Geox all have Velcro fastenings). Sent them to change and loudly pretended to call divorce lawyer.
I remarked that two festivals in one weekend sure is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Lysander retorted that he wished the once had been twenty-five years earlier, rather than now. I am so shattered I went to bed without removing my sparkly festival eye-shadow; face now resembles crumpled glitter wrapping paper.
Thank god I have a month to prepare for July: Hop Farm and Love Supreme (both same weekend, thanks again, Scheduling Fiends), and then of course lovely Mumfords. Fired up JohnLewis.com and ordered latest essential festie must-have: portable Nespresso machine. Totes sorted.
Beth Miller. Published in Viva Lewes magazine, May 2013.