So the festival season is nearly upon us. It’s only a matter of weeks now before girls get their wellies out, even though it’s not raining and boys try to pull girls even though they don’t fancy them at all– although that’s the case pretty much all year around.
People will be wearing all their most fashionable clothes to drag them in the mud and have drunken sex with random people in tents while I’ll be hiding at home, far away from any of it.
The idea of camping is enough to make me feel anxious.
I do not see the attraction of having an uncomfortable night’s sleep in a tent too tiny to change out of my clothes, where people are possibly being sick inside and using the space outside as a toilet.
I honestly can’t tell if I’d rather queue to get into a shower so dirty that taking my shoes off is only optional or not shower at all for four days.
Any of these options puts me at risk of some kind of skin disease anyway.
But leaving the people throwing up in their tents and not changing clothes for a weekend out of it, I’m still not in.
I love gigs. I find it exciting to see the crowd gather and enjoying the same thing at the same time.
I love watching my favourite band singing songs I only hear on my iPod and I’m obsessed with music in general.
Which is why I don’t see the point of festivals.
There’ll be too many bands for me to see them all.
Chances are everyone I actually care about will be playing at the same time and making this decision is too “Sophie’s choice”-esque.
Not to mention I’ll end up not really seeing the bands I’m into either.
Anyway crowds annoy me and it’ll be too big for me to hear properly or see anything from a distance,.
As for the people I’ll be with, I’m all for them getting drunk and having fun, but there’s a difference between drunk friends on a Saturday night and drunk friends three days in a row, all day every day.
I won’t share the hungover mornings when everyone will be sick and sleepy and I’ll want to do things.
And I won’t have to share the time when they’ll be lying in the grass on the last night missing their favourite band because they can’t remember who’s playing, where they are or their own name, when all I’ll want to do is to party in Sheffield bars and go back to the comfort of my own bed.
And this is exactly what I’ll be doing.
* Anouchka Santella, Parisian in Sheffield