Caffeine High

Post Bestival Blues. Well, they have materialised in the form of yellows and greens, thanks to Tesco's finest cold remedy capsules stock full of caffeine and paracetamol that I am knocking back, probably going a long way to explain why I feel it is appropriate to be blogging at two in the morning about nothing in particular. That's always the way. Four Tet were amazing. I lost my voice during Mumford and Roxy Music and got a bit emotional. I'm listening to Fever Ray now and trying to remember how everything was just right and how the music was so intense. Bombay Bicycle Club's acoustic set was one of those moments when you realise everything is just so good. Or at least you think so until you turn round and see your housemate conked out on the grass. I have realised that I am an old woman in a twenty year old's body, or at least I thought as much until I got embroiled in the most ridiculous mud fight ever and allowed my Captain Scarlet clad brother to water pistol red bull and vodka directly into my mouth. I should really have gone as a Mysteron circle and stalked him the entire time. Snow White was a bit obvious really, though not as obvious as the ridiculous amount of Where's Wally's. Turns out they were all quite easy to find. I have never camped in such luxury, having never really camped at all it wasn't much of an achievement but I never realised how much difference a blow up bed can really make. A big enough difference it seems to attract housemates who should be sleeping in tents opposite but get so attracted by something inflatable and flowery sleeping bags that the double became a tad cramped. It was fine though, we had late night chats as we watched the stars. There were more stars in the sky that I have seen for a while. The most I have counted in Peckham at any one time has been eight. Really and truly. There's probably so much more I could talk about, like the first night where I was pleasantly surprised to see strangers smile warmly at me, until of course remembering that I had my face painted like a mannequin (of course I meant a harlequin), but what I can remember so explicitly are the car rides. Intermittently waking up from sleep to find the sky at different stages of lightness, stretching towards dusk, twilight, until being basked with a charcoal grey tinged with orange from the street lamps, looking out at the motorway and being a child again and pretending that the car isn't actually moving but the whole world is moving around a static car and the motion is turning the roads and the trees and the hedges into differing striped blurs, wanting to do a Wolfgang Tillmans-esque thing and take pictures of the sky at every hour and create a colour chart for hours of the day.

Caffeine makes me use the word 'and' too freely.

And apparently makes me forget about paragraphing. We'll just let this pass as a stream of consciousness.