T In The Park

This weekend has been astonishingly exciting. And it started with one of those 'Royal Mail attempted to deliver...' cards. I fucking hate them. But that's not important right now.

What is important is that I received one on Thursday. In fact, I'll be honest, that's not even that important. What IS important is what arrived once I'd rearranged delivery; two camping tickets for T In The Park - two tickets that I'd ordered nearly a year ago, and completely forgotten about.

I love surprising myself.

And so I'm going to T In The Park, which is, as everyone knows, AMAZING - the best of the festivals, and one of the few that manages to remain joyfully grubby. It's in such a beautiful place, nobody loves drinking and music quite like the Scots, and the line-up is just awe-inspiring. Arcade Fire, Camera Obscura, Brian Wilson, Mr Hudson & The Library, Rufus, The Klaxons, CSS, The Kings of Leon, Scissor Sisters, Gogol Bordello... Fuck me, it's just silly.

The only downer is the final act on the main stage on Sunday night - yes, as if to spite me, those winsome Scottish troubadours Fucking Snow Patrol will be closing the festival. But the joy of T is that there will be someone INCREDIBLE playing somewhere else, and I'll be too drunk to care anyway. Bring it. The only thing to be aware of is that the last time I went to T I got over-excited and booked tickets to see Elton John in Las Vegas; I then woke up the next morning and realised that I was going to have to go to Las Vegas. But that's probably a story for another post...

So there we are. I've got tickets and a tent - now I just need time off work, transport to Balado... oh, and someone to go with. Easy.