To be honest its all a bit of a blur, and I wasn't going to bother doing a write up as it was so long ago, but I found the official program whist tidying up the other day, and was pleased to see that I'd actually marked the bands that I'd seen, and slowly the memories came creeping back.
I was living in a small one bedroom flat at the time, and Harry, a friend of mine, was living on the floor in my front room. It was my first year living away from home, and I'd been going to the local rock venue for a while. I was buying NME every week, and the Rock Festival ads where looking mighty tempting, so we lived of rice for a couple of weeks and managed to scrape together the money for tickets and supplies, we read the festival guides, and we bought, borrowed and filched camping equipment.
We got the train there, and loaded up with more beer and food than we could possibly carry we trudged across the campsite to an empty spot. I assume we started drinking and smoking, but most of the weekend is a blur from this point on. I can't remember what the weather was like, I can't remember if we went with anyone else, and I can't remember what happened - except three things.
And to be honest I wouldn't remember the bands - except in the vaigest "I know you - I know I know you" kind of way, if it wasn't for the program (god bless the festival program).
I saw China Drum (mediocre punk rock lunch time nonsense), Juliana Hatfield (utterly unmemorable), Whale (sexy), Hole (messed up, but rocking), Green Day (american punk rock at its best), Smashing Pumpkins (amazing). Skunk Anansie (rocking), Little Axe (twaddle), Corduroy (bah), Shed Seven (indie pop rock twaddle), Throwing Muses (eh?), Tricky (scary), The Boo Radleys (lame), Paul Weller (not bad for an old man), Bjork (truly amazing). Blind Melon (fantastic), White Zombie (amazing), Paw (I forget), Soundgarden (dull), Neil Young (old). And that was that.
On the last night I wandered off on my own in a state of, well, in a state, probably looking for cigarettes I could buy, borrow, or dance for, and came across tent with two reasonably attractive Nurses, utterly off their tiny little minds on poppers (if your not familiar with poppers then your lucky. This was my first, and only encounter, and the feeling is something akin to having a hangover and drowning. not recommended.). Anywho, they invited me in, and I was in the process of skinning up, and thanking my lucky stars - because as far as I was concerned this was a guaranteed pull (or two) - when a fourth body joined us, materialising in the middle of the tent like a sack of potatoes thrown on the floor. It was a large Australian man, who proceeded to tell us he was on two acid and two pills ("what kind of pills" asks I, "I don't know" says he).
So, the girls where doing their poppers and I was sparking the joint, and then - I'm not quite sure how it happened - a few moments later the Australian had my spliff in one hand, the poppers in the other, and was snogging one of the girls at the same time, the other girl was asleep or passed out. So I made my excuses and left. It was very odd.
The only other thing I remember is the blistering pain of walking home carrying my tent and dirty cloths from the train station to my flat, then falling asleep in my boxer shorts, exhausted, on my bed rather than in it.
Where you there? Do you know me? Do you want to tell me what happened? Email me and let me know your side of the story!