once more our trusty charabanc, Veronica, is loaded to the gills as we depart in search of sun, Sanatogen, loud music and implausibly-priced cider. Yes, we're off to Latitude 2015!
Dear mrs electrofried rides shotgun up-front whilst our youngest daughter teenygoth snuggles up comfortably in the back of the camper-van with her fiancee, young Foxy. A gruelling cross-country run, guided by a sat-nav that has seemingly hit the festival hooch somewhat prematurely sees us pass an enigmatic AA traffic road-sign that reads, 'Bermuda Triangle'. Fittingly, it points nowhere.
We arrive on site and by-pass the border guards, smuggling in the customary illicit jar of Waitrose's finest marmalade despite the long-standing 'no-glass' embargo. The inflatable awning goes up amazingly smoothly once we work out we've packed it inside out. No such problems with the first hit of cheap and frothy supermarket lager. We've arrived!
The evening passes pleasantly enough. A welcome trip to the Film Tent for a viewing of 'Yonderland', a hit Sky sci-fi comedy we've not encountered before. It proves of sterner stuff than the somewhat pretentious opera caterwauled beneath a canopy of trees in the Woodland Arena. Which sets us up nicely for Steak House Live, featuring a bewildering company of bull dykes and transgendereds who with razor-sharp humour draw us in to their own peculiar and deeply poignant world.
We sleep well...
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