Bestival, 2009.

There is something I forget every year in passing: the difference between getting drunk to go to a club, and getting drunk at a festival.

This year I got away from Brighton and its incestuous gays. I got away from the worst relationship I've ever experienced, and the mess that surrounded it.
Nothing is able to really effect my mood at a festival, as opposed to a club. I'm surrounded by primarily like-minded individuals, and live music. Away from people.
The weather was a real delight this year; completely making up for last year, and the people I met were a riot to hang out with.

It's strange to think I could have died on the journey home: a van colliding with the precise place of our car where my head had fallen asleep on. I didn't even wake up.

Another thing I have completely realised is that Brighton is just not for me, in any degree imaginable. I know that when I move away I am going to have a much better time with things.

I cannot wait for Bestival 2010.
I cannot wait for the north.