This could well be Woodstock for the 21st century!
There is a whisper in the wind. You hear a friend of a friend has been to the festival, but when you ask them about it they simply raise a finger to their lips. A secret hideaway seldom heard of. The whereabouts of the festival is kept secret until a few weeks before the event, and even the line-up is merely a few names of artists leaked on their homepage. These things don’t matter to this crowd, as everyone you speak to says they’re there solely for the vibe.
It doesn’t take long to realise this is the case. Everyone is talking to everyone. Everyone is hugging everyone. I am surrounded by grins like Cheshire Cats and having a ‘deep and meaningful’ with a couple in their 40s and am outlining why altruism is a better ethos than anarchy with its self-serving connotations. But this isn’t 3am in a dance tent, this is 6pm on the Thursday while everyone is arriving, and we are sober!
I volunteered to work for Oxfam stewarding the festival prior to landing an internship at Spoonfed. Originally phased by having to complete eight hour shifts over three days, this actually became equally as enjoyable as when off shift. Conversations had with all ages, amazing people from all walks of life and from over the country (but mostly from Bristol) about absolutely anything and everything. I meet architects, fellow journalists, a screenwriter, even an interior designer for super luxury yachts for the likes of Abramovich.
A lady walks passed with a tea in her hand during one shift and I joke that it’s for me. Ten minutes later she returns with a cup of delicious masala chai of my very own. A photographer lends me an umbrella whilst the rain pours during my fire watch-out tower shift (Thanks Diggs!). A fellow steward was given tea, a cheese toastie and a massage during her shift! This generosity is seldom seen on an average day, yet this feels perfectly normal here – more than any other festival I've been to. It’s refreshing to take a view of a festival from the angle of the workers and I’d encourage more people to do it. Plus you get a free ticket!
The absurd occurs around you without fazing you. A guitar, cello, double bass and cajon appear at the next table and you find yourself in an impromptu gig at 4.30am. UK garage classic ‘Ripgroove’ is heard and you pop into the tent to discover a roller disco. A postman cycles passed and delivers mail to your tent containing a challenge for the weekend. Kids play crazy golf next to bellowing, skanking dubstep on a drizzly afternoon.
The dreadlocked many roam The Meadows taking advantage of holistic treatments; workshops for drumming and dancing mean the Permaculture area is a hive of activity; the huge chill-out area known as The Enchanted Wood seems to expand with every visit. The Lost Cinema tent seems constantly busy (surprisingly). There is such an array of delights, the kind Glastonbury has to offer but without the hiking.
The musical treats are many, yet the music feels almost sidelined to the sensory overload of pleasure at just being there. I bop away so much I realise I’m moving vertebrae that haven’t been used for years. A great karmic flood of pleasure washes over me on the Friday evening as I reach an epiphany whilst laying on my back in the Chai Wallah tent staring through a hole in the roof of the tent at the canopy of stars above. A similar thing happens on Sunday as the sun breaks through and the skies turn brilliant blue. I see a girl look up to the heavens. The delight on her face cannot be described, she is as ecstatic as I was two nights previous. We are all here, lost in total abandon somewhere in Northamptonshire. Or maybe we’ve been transported to Middle Earth? In the fullest sense of the Buddhist word the festival name refers to, this must be paradise.
But don’t tell anyone about it, will you?
Image by Derek Bremner
Click here to read our review of Playgroup Festival.
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