These journals are about music, drugs and the Isle of Wight. They’re about the joy of escape, the catharsis of being lost in a vibration, the comfort of anonymity in a large crowd and the strange things you see when lots of intoxicated young people get together.
The diaries detailing our experiences at the Isle of Wight festival in 2012 were the first that I published here. I think there’s a lot of cool things in these stories, interesting characters and a genuine and complete exploration of what it was to be at this festival during this period of time. When the entries first went up, understandably, no one really cared because no one knew what this blog was and what I was all about. Now I’m a little more established, I wanted to collect them into one place, the same as I did for the Lake District and Highlands Roadtrip ’13.
So, here’s In the Swamp…
1. A tale of drugs, mud, piss and strange people at the Isle of Wight Festival 2012.
2. Arrival. Meeting the neighbours. The Stranglers. Primal Scream. First impressions.
3. Elbow. Australian piss fetishists. Depression. Escape from the festival. Recapture.
4. Gazebo CUNT! Ryan’s trip. Recovery Day. Pootopia. Lucy flees. Another weird piss story.
5. Eddie returns. Ryan takes speed. Pearl Jam. Campsite thefts. Neighbourhood declares the festival a washout and a failure. Exodus.
6. Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds. Christian Security Guy. Drying mud. Penalty shoot-out.
7. The wasteland after the party. Tale of a wellington boot. Going home. Ryan and Eddie’s review.
Journeys Through Pre-World War 3 Britain 
I feel grubby and high just reading about it. So much theft at festivals – must be desperate as no-one takes their best threads to a muddy site surely? Apart from pimp coat guy.
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Haha. That was a really gratifying comment, thank you. If you feel grubby and high I must be at least partially doing my job here. I actually think there may have been a semi-sophisticated thieving operation going on there, although I think all thieving is desperate to an extent. If I really had my journalist head on and my spirit was higher I would have done a little investigating of my own,
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I only went to V festival for a day (when Amy Winehouse was in a particularly terrible state) so I had no tent robbing problems. I was alone on a second hand ticket and ended up helping those high and drunk who face planted in mud.
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Haha, I’m sure those people are very thankful. Sober saviours are like glowing lights in the dark after a semi-debauched night of music, mayhem and mud, I suspect. Thankfully, I’ve never needed saving yet. Honestly, much as I love music, I think I might have got most of my fill for weekend festivals after this. Although, I’d still do days here and there like you did with V.
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