I went to a festival last night. The local village Rockfest. I got to stay up late past ten o’clock. Yes, I know you’ll be shocked, me being the classy, organic chick that I am and all but hey. What can I say? Sometimes Mummy’s just have to get down with the sounds and chill.

Oh, God.

The Festival

We are currently in Devon in the Uk, staying with my family. When I found out that we were to go to a festival, the first thing I thought of was not how much fun and joy my beloved children were going to have to mingle with their cousins that they haven’t seen for three years.


My first thought was, how much is this going to bloody cost me and will there be wine.

Because I am resourceful and have a serious drinking problem,  I instructed Brian to whizz to Lidl’s quickly and buy a couple of bottles of red – under a fiver mind. This would see me through the night nicely thank you very much.


Getting Through Security With My Stash of Wine


Luckily it wasn’t the sort of festival that checked your pockets for knives and tweezers and wine bottles, no, there were homemade cakes, raffle tickets and a Mr Whippy van.

At the entrance, two elderly women volunteers, a bit older than me, were giving away free cancer research pansies that they had crocheted themselves. Very nice.

We went to pay. An old man who stood guarding the raffle tickets with his life saw me and smiled. Obviously, thinking “Here’s another tenner”.

I wanted to announce while pointing smugly to the wine stashed under my arm, “Don’t think you’ll be making any money out of me at your rip-off charity bar Fella”, but instead, I said, “That’s a nice florescent jacket you’re wearing Sir, are you a real policeman?” and went nicely on my way.

As the day wore into the evening and I’d had my fill of cups of tea and stale biscuits, I started on the good stuff. The kids got a bit nervous when they saw me pouring my red wine out of the bottle like one of those strange men that I had warned them about in New York…


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