Better To Just Be Real. Show Up, Do Your Job And Be A Nice Person

That Time We Discussed My Declining Years and The Disparity Between Your Early Twenties and Mid-Late Twenties

Oh yes, dear readers, it's another rant.

I've come home from work, quickly demolished two glasses of wine and of course a Blog Post has been born.

Strap yourselves in; it's going to be a bumpy ride.

Buckle up now.

As I am sure I have complained about before, and as we all know, I have studied Law at University and now for some unknown reason have completed the Legal Practice Course at Law School as well.

An example of the many, many hoops I have jumped through thus far on my journey to become a badass solicitor.

Not bitter.

Obviously.

(Although my bank account is still crying from the last round of financial assault the Solicitors Regulation Authority managed to get away with.)

ANYWAY.

The next step after a 4 year Law degree, 2 years at Law School and 6 years' work experience as a paralegal/legal assistant is a 2 year training contract completed on the job and a Professional Skills Course repeating much of what I have already undertaken at Law School.

Do you understand why I have a permanent eye twitch yet, dear readers?!

ARE WE HAVING FUN YET?!

The next step requires training contract applications.  Having waited several years for a training contract to plop itself down in my lap (not really sure why I thought that was a valid tactic), I have decided to take a more pro-active approach to the whole farcical situation.  Better late than never, or so I'm told.

The other night I sat down ready for application hell and discovered...well...exactly that actually.

I was half way through an application when I got to a set of three boxes that enraged me so much that I had to go and watch calming videos of people applying acrylic nail polish to calm myself down lest I fling my laptop across the room.

Oh hush, you big baby, I didn't go through with it!

The application enraged me so much that I have decided to write this Blog Post and correct the glaring errors in employers' ways.

For it is not just one application that is needlessly grueling; all applications seem to be designed to confound, irritate and otherwise perplex.

So, here are my attempts to help those misguided HR departments out there...

1. Questions to Avoid

"Why do you want to work for this firm?"

Stop, stop, stop asking me this.  The answer is, invariably; "Because you have a vacancy and I need money."

Which apparently employers don't like.  Even if it is the truth.

Case. Point.

But then why do I have to explain myself to this stranger in a dodgy pinstripe suit.  Tell me why YOU want ME, Big Partner Solicitor Person.

Apparently employers don't like that either.

The truth hurts, boo.

I know that you are supposed to say a load of buzz words that you have managed to pick out from the firm's website but, let's be honest, it's always a lie.

Is this the way we want to start this new glorious relationship, potential employer?

Oh, apparently it is because I can hear you muttering about how important the work/life balance is in this firm (normally exclusively reserved for Partners who need to spend the afternoon boozing with some clients), progression is available (after 5 years and we dangle that carrot in front of you for the whole time to make sure you work your little yoga bum off) and that our salaries are competitive (competitively shit for this over saturated market you mean).

Ah.  So lying it is then.

And they say lawyers are unscrupulous. 

2. Provide Results From All University Modules, Exams, Driving Test and All Smear Tests

I'm not saying that academic results aren't important; of course they are. Especially in a career in Law.  All I'm saying is, why do I need to provide every single result of every single exam since I was 15 years old?  I got 9 GCSEs, 4 A Levels, a University Degree and a Post-Graduate Diploma.

Do you realise how many exams that adds up to?!

I do: 53.

53 individual exam results I need to include on every single training contract application.

I mean...seriously?! Is anyone even looking at these at this point?

Apparently not.

Isn't it enough to say that I passed them? Can't I just give a vague outline instead of the actual percentage that I got in each module at Uni? (This is not an exaggeration - I have to type out the number for each exam.)

And haven't we got passed that ideal that only academics can make it in the Law world? What if I didn't excel at school but have a great work ethic, an understanding of how to handle clients without wanting to poke my eyes out with a stapler remover and the ability to click buttons in my case management system which generates all the necessary letters for me anyway...don't get me started on that last one.

I understand that employers need a bar by which to judge the multitude of applicants against but why does it need to be in this much detail? If I was a complete fraud and unable to string a coherent thought together I am pretty sure one of these institutions would have outed me by now.

No caption required.

3. My Life Is Empty and Has No Meaning

And, finally, the questions in the training contract application that lead to this Blog Post in the first place:

- List your hobbies/interests and membership of clubs
- List your involvement in the community and/or charity work
- Positions of responsibilities

I was looking at the above questions and pulled this face:-

And am just as cute. Obviously.

Hobbies and memberships of clubs? Err...next.

Involvement in the community/charity work. Umm...

Positions of responsibilities. ...my boss let's me put the clean tea towels out sometimes?

Looking at these questions blankly and scratching my head (which incidentally is turning grey because I'm old) it struck me how geared up these applications were for University students.  In fact, the only things I could include in most of these questions took me all the way back to my early twenties.

The more I thought about it, the angrier I became.  These questions started making me question my life: why wasn't I a member of a club? Why didn't I do any charity work? What did I actually do in my spare time?!

My new Facebook profile pic.

And the more I pondered, the more I thought...why the hell should I have to explain myself to you, anonymous and mystical training contract giver?

I like my life.  My life is fulfilling and fun and full of light, laughter, love, family and friends.  If I want to spend the entire weekend in my pyjamas watching Big Bang Theory or bouncing around in muddy puddles with the Boyfriend and Nessie, in what way does that affect my ability to do a fantastic job 9-5, Monday to Friday?

It doesn't and that is what infuriated me so much.  Why should I spend my time filling these boxes with guff from years ago?  What employer wants to know I joined the snow sports team (but only for the socials) or that when I had loads of free time and wasn't desperately trying to pay off Law School loans (thanks again, SRA!) I had the time and inclination to raise money for charity.  I work damn hard in the week and if I want to devote my weekends to doing nothing that is my prerogative.

My thoughts exactly Mr Puss Cat

Why wasn't there a box for 'shit you do really well at work', 'list all the jobs you've had and the experience you gained i.e. leave a URL to your Linkedin here' and 'what is the nicest thing you've done for a colleague' or 'would any of your employers have you back or would they laugh in your face and tell you to take a long walk off a short pier?'

See? I fixed your stupid application, Head of HR.

It was at this point that I put the application away for fear of typing in caps lock 'WHO THE CARES?'

Won't some magical training contract guru think about us, the aging, work weary wretches of the world that didn't get off our arses at Uni and make all these application at the appropriate time?

Please?

Pretty, pussycat please?

In light of the above, maybe it has become clearer to some of the non-Law crowd as to why I have been preparing my lap for the training contact ploppage instead of actually filling out the applications.

Or maybe it just goes to show I'm too lazy to be a solicitor.

Eh.

Paralegal for lyfe, innit?

(I didn't say any of those GCSEs were in English.)

&&Fin.

Hobbies Of Any Kind Are Boring Except To people Who Have The Same Hobby

That Time We Talked About How To Enjoy Yourself On The Cheap

We previous discussed the fact that my boyfriend abandons me on the regular (aka he goes away for work). What you might not know is that I am also currently repaying a Career and Development loan (aka the Law Society fleeced me for even more money for a pointless piece of paper and I'm still not qualified. ...not bitter).

This is a qualified lawyer.  If this was a law student that statue would have been sold for food by now. Trust.

All of this means that I now need to find ways to enjoy myself on the cheap.

And thus, I have been indulging in as many free activities as possible.  These have, invariably, been a comedy of errors and therefore a Blog post is necessary.

So away we go:

1. Yoga at home

This is Adrienne.

Don't you just feel relaxed looking at her?!

Adrienne is my saviour.

I love yoga (potentially because it is the only form of exercise that I am semi-good at due to my alien, inherent bendy-ness). Previously, I have attended a yoga class in Southampton with Heather (I STILL LOVE YOU HEATHER!) which made sense when I worked in Southampton.  But now that I do not live or work in Southampton, driving to the class made less and less sense.

My YouTube skills (see Bear Grylls: Born Shiteater) led me to Adrienne.  I like that she doesn't take the practice too seriously and encourages people to find what feels good rather than sticking to what the poses should look like.

However, the major drawback to this method of yoga practice is that the teacher isn't in the room with you so you're not entirely sure you are doing the vinyasa (check me out!) correctly.  This is compounded further when you are trying to copy a miniature version of a lady on your phone screen propped up against a wall.

Anyway, because the teacher isn't in the room with you, they aren't able to correct you and/or push your limits in the best way and you end up in positions that maybe your body doesn't really appreciate.

By day 3 of the 30 day challenge, my buttocks ached in ways they shouldn't.  Although this may have had more to do with the fact that I tried to bend myself into a pretzel after several months of no exercise.  I am sure normal humans would not encounter the achy bottom syndrome that I suffered.

Hey ho, needs must and all that.

The 30 Day Challenge is a great way to get back into the practice if you have been away for a while.  The session are between 15-40 minutes so you might even be able to squeeze in some mat time before work if you are really keen.

Obviously, I will be in bed wondering what is wrong with you but don't let my judgmental eyes stop you.

Namaste. 

2. Home Waxing

This is less of a 'hobby' and more of a cry for help to be honest.

For anyone not getting my amazing Twilight references - boyfriend goes away, girlfriend endangers life and limb because "I'm an angsty teen and my life revolves around a guy - sozlol" and afterwards there is a dramatic loss of hair.

Well, I thought it was quite apt.

#isTwilightevenathinganymore

Anyway, I have previously mentioned my love for waxing so onto the step by step guide of my ordeal experience:

Step 1: Ensure Housemate has vacated the Premises.  I do not want an audience for the inevitable howls and yelps that are likely to ensue.

Step 2: Heat the wax up.  This took f-o-r-e-v-e-r.  This may have had something to do with the fact that I was melting enough wax to mould my own Madame Tussaud's figure but the wax wasn't fully melted for several hours.  In fact, my patience ran out and I started when there was still a huge solid chunk in the middle.

FYI - just as a kind of public service announcement; don't google image search 'lots of wax'.  You will be scarred for life.

You. Are. Welcome.

Step 3: Sit on the floor, on a towel, legs akimbo in a Very Unladylike Manner.

Step 4: Deep breaths.

Step 5: Use wooden lollipop stick to apply hot wax (NOT TOO HOT) to happy places.

Step 6: Allow wax to cool and harden.

Step 7: Realise that there is no going back.

Step 8: More deep breaths.

Step 9: Rip the wax off of your happy places which are now less happy and a lot more pissed off.  Hold in expletives.

Step 10: Admire handiwork and think the pain was worth it.

Step 11: Realise you have to do this like 30 more times and maybe it won't be worth it actually.

Step 12: Repeat steps 5 - 11 until you have achieved the desired baldness.

Hey, to each their own, man, amiright?!

There was a strange kind of satisfaction about the whole process. Enjoyment is not the right word; don't get me wrong - it hurts! But there is a weird compulsion to just keep going. It's like that feeling you get when you press a bruise. You know, where it kind of hurts but you can't help but do it again? ...no? I mean...me neither.

Not awkward enough to NOT write a Blog Post about though, clearly.

3. My Lego Boyfriend

My most recent project is a clear sign of my descent into madness.

But hey, what is a Blog for, if not to afford my dear readers the chance to mock me when they see me in public.

Years ago, a lifetime before Perfect Tinder Dates and Breakfast Bahjis, the Boyfriend was gifted a Lego version of himself by some work colleagues.

Here he is:

So. Cute.

Lego Boyfriend has been entrusted into my care whilst Real Boyfriend is away and we have lots of adventures planned for the next few months.

For the time being, I just wanted to introduce my Lego Boyfriend (checkered shirt and all!) and you can follow our adventures via photographs on my Instagram.  But Lego Boyfriend will also be making regular appearances on the Blog so hopefully we will be seeing much more of him in the future.

NO!

I love you, dear readers, but really.

Filthy minded the lot of you.

In light of my poverty, my friends and family have the joys of home made Christmas gifts so look forward to my fail tales of my attempts at creativity in due course.

What this whole experience, and in particular, writing this Blog post, has taught me is that...I need better hobbies.

&&Fin.

Long Distance Is For Those Knowing A Good Thing When They See It, Even If They Don't See It Nearly Enough

That Time We Got All Mushy

What The Buzz: #ThursdayThoughts

My first Thursday Thought was, why does Twitter love alliteration so much?

#ThrowbackThursday
#FeelGoodFriday
#FollowFriday
#MancrushMonday

What's next?

#TMITuesday
#WeepyWednesday
#StayInBedSunday

In any event, the Twittersphere was coming over all positive and motivational (which is more than can be said for the #NationalPoetryDay hashtag which was bastardized into #WriteAPoemForTheresaMay which were surprisingly witty, if somewhat harsh).

So, in order to spread a bit of motivation and happy thoughts across the internet, here are some #ThursdayThoughts for you all:

Don’t forget that the sacrifices you make now are setting you up for a better life down the road. #ThursdayThoughts #Motivation #Inspiration pic.twitter.com/uo0eYKP0SO

— Murray Newlands (@MurrayNewlands) 29 September 2016

5 Ingredients for Happiness#ThursdayThoughts pic.twitter.com/x5PdUWMH1T

— Gary Hensel (@gary_hensel) 6 October 2016

#ThursdayThoughts 🍁 October back to work it's dark outside the wind blows in my hair

It's a little cold ☕🍰

💕💞💖 pic.twitter.com/fdylyV0lvl

— kent kristensen (@kentkristensen1) 6 October 2016

My #mondaymotivation is to get #blogs ready by #ThursdayThoughts. #blogging pic.twitter.com/igAUyHxPxp

— Jonny (@MerthyrRanter) 26 September 2016

All the technology in the world will never replace a positive attitude. - Harvey Mackay #quote #ThursdayThoughts pic.twitter.com/h4ffbvooPz

— Bill M Moore (@bmoore_20) 26 September 2016

I was in need of some positive thinking today, dear readers.

It finally dawned on me yesterday that the BF is heading off to sea very shortly and will be gone for 5 solid months.  This information has been made known to me since January/February time so it should not have come as a shock.

But knowing it was due to happen 'at some point in the distance future and anyway it's only a Tinder guy you might not even still be dating at that point' and actually coming to the reality of it 'oh my God you are going away, I won't see you for 5 months and you will miss Christmas, New Year, our first anniversary, my law school graduation and Valentine's and everything in between' is very different and not altogether pleasant.

Now, don't get me wrong, BF is off on glorious adventures on the high seas so we are (resignedly) happy for him.  He is leaving his dredging life behind him and he is, in fact, going to be employed on a cruise ship (colour me jealous) so I'm sure he'll basically be hit on by old ladies, feasting on cream teas and pointedly ignoring the gym facilities.  (This is The Only Way To Cruise.)  But the point is that I won't see his face and get to annoy him by tugging on his chin stubble for a Very, Long Time.

And that is a hard fact to accept.

(Although I'm sure his stubble will be relieved.)

It's like a spiky safety blanket...don't look at me like that.

I know some people will be thinking 'is it even worth it?'.  (I know this because some socially inept people in my life have actually asked this question OUT LOUD.)

I am here to tell you inexplicably and most emphatically, yes; it is worth it.

As we have previously discussed the importance of having amazing people in your life that truly care about you so I won't re-hash old ground but it is still true.  The BF is one of those people and why would I want to settle for less for the simple reason that it is geographically available to me?

Plus...I've already seen the local Tinder offerings. Shudder. 

To emphasise my point about finding special people, I am going to share with you an ooey gooey story.  Stand by with your upchuck reflexes, dear readers.

NB: Some of the following circumstances and conversations may have been dramatized (slightly!) for humorous effect.

(It is (late) morning.  AJ and BF are sat in bed talking.  AJ occasionally pulls on BF's stubble and ignores the BF's manly winces.)

AJ: I have got such a weird craving for breakfast.

BF: I'm all ears.

AJ: I know this is really weird.  But I have a really strange craving for curry.  How odd is that?!

(BF refrains from commenting but is clearly recalling AJ's culinary expertise the evening before which consisted of pizza and steak.  BF wisely just smiles and nods.) 

BF: Right, I'm going to have a shower and then I'll rustle up some breakfast.

AJ: Okay, but I don't know how much food I have in the house.

(BF also refrains from stating that this is not unusual and he expected as much.  BF is actually Very Clever.  BF showers while AJ fantasizes about chicken tikka masala. BF emerges from the bathroom in a cloud of steam.)

BF: Right - all done.  You go and hop in and I'll make breakfast.

(AJ showers and thinks pilau rice wouldn't be too weird as breakfast.  AJ gets out of the shower and dresses before heading downstairs. There is the sound of something sizzling from the kitchen.) 

AJ: Oh my gosh - something smells amazing! Have you done Spanish omelette or something?

BF: Something like that...

(AJ rounds the corner into the kitchen and sees that the BF has made onion bahjis from the minimal supplies he has found in the cupboards. AJ effectively becomes the heart eyes emoji.)

Seriously guys....hold out for someone that makes you onion bahjis for breakfast.  And when you find them do not let go.

Even if you won't get breakfast bahjis again for 5 months. #ThursdayThoughts

Worth it.

&&Fin

If Music Is A Place -- Then Jazz Is The City, Folk Is The Wilderness, Rock Is The Road, Classical Is A Temple

That Time I Recounted Saturday At Wilderness Festival 2016

Hola, dear readers.  I know you have all been waiting with bated breath for the next installment of the Wilderness Blog Post.

Well...ta-da!  Here we are...nearly a month later.  My bad.

But, seriously - busy, busy life yada yada I know, dear readers, you have heard it all before.  So let us get right back in to the story.

Saturday

(In which I forgot to mention that we had tried to buy ear plugs for Ker-Bear from the many vendors around the festival only to be told they were all sold out.  But I did have some cotton wool pads so KB was able to stuff those in her ears to at least muffle some of the noise.)

Accurate representation of how cute the Ker-Bear is.  Even in the mornings.

On Saturday, we woke up bright and early to go and do mass morning yoga.

After a breakfast of tinned beans and sausages (actually the perfect wake up call), we toddled off to yoga with a change of clothes in our bags.

And then dynamic yoga occurred.

Which was amazing.

See? Looks amazing.

Apart from the fact that it was in the blazing sun and we hadn't drunk anything bar our now requisite cup of tea.

So by the end of it, KB felt faint and I was crying again.

(Don't know what is wrong with me so don't even bother asking #totesemosh #noimnotpregnantgrandma).

After a quick BubbleTea:

Seriously yum. 

We decided what to do for the day which included getting a Moroccan lamb wrap, wild swimming and going to a talk on the meaning of dreams.

And did not include me dashing off to the Portaloo every five minutes to try and push a demon out of me (#againnotpregnantgrandma). 

Regardless, we did all of the above. 

Which was made worse by the fact that I was wearing a crop top (I know, I am Down With The Kiddywinks) and I was hideously bloated during my 24 hour ordeal (#shitmaybeiampregnant). 

Thankfully, Wilderness is an upmarket kind of festival and there were portaloos everywhere with toilet paper in abundance and they were emptied regularly.  Which, I think I speak for everyone here, we were all grateful for. 

In any event (and moving away from the Portaloos (for a minute at least)) I went wild swimming in the lake which was awesome but freezing!  And I put my hair up because I am now in Swimming Mum Mode (#AGAINGRANDMA) whereby I do not want to get my hair all wet. 

This plan was foiled by the fact that I got all excited and cannon balled into the lake completing forgetting that water is liquid and can therefore be displaced by me and my giant, distended belly. 

So, of course, I instantly went completely under the water and dropped like a stone.  When, really, I should have been quite buoyant given all that gas....#tmi.

#wildswimming

Later, Ker-Bear and I wandered off in search of some intellectual discussions (and more Portaloos obvs). 

What we found was the Odditorium which was indulging in a discussion on the meaning of dreams before going on to explore The Haunted Moustache by Dr Bramwell and an enlightening talk entitled 'Big Willies' which we were assured would have visual aids. 

We didn't hang around to find out. 

Instead, the foreboding, grey cubicles were calling me name once more so off we trundled towards the tent to have dinner and buy Imodium. 

My dear, dear friends.

After taking the recommended dose (combination of counter assistant in a plarmacy + lawyer = religiously reading the instructions and following them to the letter), I was feeling much better. 

Which was a very good thing because Ker-Bear had started to become quite concerned and kept suggesting I think about driving home. 

But I couldn't bear the thought of leaving on our final evening without experiencing as much of the festival as possible.  So I pulled my big girl pants on (or off rather) and let out the squeakiest, longest symphony of flatulence I have ever had the ultimate pleasure of experiencing. 

And it was pleasurable, let me tell you dear readers.  My poor bloated stomach was quite relieved. 

(Not so sure the same could be said for the poor chap next door.  Definitely heard muffled laughter and then a hurried escape from the pod beside me.)

In any event, I was feeling much better and that meant that we had to Go Full Festival. 

Which was nowhere near as Full Festival as literally everyone else but hey! We tried.

Now, you may not believe this, dear readers, given my propensity to exaggerate and the Blog’s flair for dramatics, but I am usually what is known as The Sensible One of the group.

(Terrifying, non?)

In any event, I usually make good, rational decisions.  So it is with something akin to chagrin that I must report that, despite The Unpleasantness of earlier, Ker-bear and I headed into the festival intent on finding Tequila town and sampling the goods therein.

Tequila Town

Following a quick tequila, we wandered off to try and find The Valley which was a mystical area we had heard of but never been privy to.  After finding several dead ends and being told to turn around lots, we thought it would be better to get good seats for the Carnival extravaganza which was due to start at 9pm.

9pm came and went, dear readers.

Much like the feeling in my buttocks from sitting cross legged on the floor.

After what felt like ages (but had only really been about 45 minutes - which is a long time for old birds like us to sit cross legged) the circus started.

 

No silly captions because the photos speak for themselves.

It was incredible and Ker-Bear and I pretty much sat there with our mouths open for the entire performance.

So we were somewhat pumped to go and find The Valley as this would be the perfect way to end our weekend.

We queued up to get in to The Valley (after finally locating the entrance) and stumbled into a bunch of teenagers in booty shorts who all clearly liked the same weed scented perfume.

There were loads of people, the music was pounding, the lights were strobing.

And we promptly left after about 5 minutes.

Ain't nobody over the age of 21 got time for that.

Off we went to bed.

Sunday

CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.

That is the noise our dear camp mates woke up to at about 7.30am on Sunday morning.

That noise was us dismantling our tent/camp beds and lobbing all our metal poles together being passive aggressive due to the fact that the Camp Horrors had been making noise until about half 6.  This noise consisted mainly of screaming into each others' faces and finding this hysterical (well, from what I could gather anyway.  In no way were drugs involved.  I'm like... 90% sure.)

This plan was genius because the sun was back out in full force and everyone was just lying about outside their tents to try and get out of the heat.

Apart from one girl which I was actually growing concerned for until Ker-Bear informed me that she was breathing so I shouldn't worry.

The genius plan was somewhat foiled when one of the main offenders came over and offered to help us pack up whilst asking us about our weekend.

#awkward

We made a hasty exit and stopped off for McDonalds for breakfast which consisted of 20 chicken McNuggets for me.

...which I then re-heated and ate three days later.

Lucky I still had some of that Imodium left over!


And thus ends the tale of Wilderness Festival 2016.

After three sleepless nights, bloated stomachs, extended stays in Portaloos and the best damn Moroccan lamb wrap I've ever had, I will be doing it all over again in 2017.

#wilderness17

&&Fin.

Wilderness Is Not A Luxury But A Necessity Of The Human Spirit

That Time I Went To A Hippy Dippy Festival And Cried (Twice)

Hello, dear readers.

I am in a state of peace-like zen.  Partly due to the lovely weather:


But mostly due to Wilderness Festival.

Wilderness is a festival in Cornbury Park, Oxfordshire this year from 4th August to 7th August 2016.  This year was the sixth season it has been running and, my word, did they pull out all the stops.

When Wilderness was first created in 2011, it was described as a festival to celebrate the arts and the outdoors. The self-proclaimed ideal was to "bring together reciprocal talents, passion to build transformative experiences with a deep love of artistry and artisans."

Which all sounds a bit pretentious written down in black and white like that.

BUT, it was amazing.

Between music, dancing, tequila shots, yoga, bubbletea, Moroccan lamb wraps, making your own jewelry, adventuring into the forest, talks, wild swimming and Portaloos as far as the eye could see...there was never a chance to be bored.

Just have a look at the basic programme if you needed more convincing!

And, because I'm a lovely person, I thought I would share my experience with you all, dear readers.  So you can relive the magic as if you were there.

Thursday

Late.  I am always late.

However, Thursday I was actually up, packed and on time, wearing my wrist band, deciding whether I was cool enough for a bumbag (or if not whether I could get away with wearing one 'ironically') and waiting for my friend (who we shall lovingly call "Ker-Bear").

A selection of the goodies the Amazon fairy brought...

Ker-Bear was not so on time.

So, whilst I waited for her arrival the Glorious was treated to a much-needed clean given the amount of bird poo that adorned the passenger window, door and left hand side of the windscreen.

Beauty!

(As an aside; there is a very poorly bird near the BF's house that needs medical attention. Stat.)

In any event, Ker-Bear arrived and we promptly packed the Glorious to get under way.

Away we go!

Upon arriving at Cornbury Park (after one hilariously wrong turn), we soon came to the conclusion that we I had brought a lot of stuff.

And therefore Mathilda the Trolley was necessary!

My new best friend.

After about 40 minutes of unpacking, convincing the security man at the gate that we had really stuck to the alcohol limit (and his look of incredulity that someone actually abides by festival rules - lawyers #amiright), we had managed to organise our home for the next three nights.

Not too shabby!

After a brief respite, we decided to go for an explore into the Festival arena.  I did not realise how much space the Festival would cover.

Ker-Bear has an UP wrist band that tracks her steps over the day and tells her how much exercise she has done (I will not be getting one as I don't need any more things in my life explicitly showing that I am exceedingly lazy tyvm). And each day we would end up walking about 20,000 steps.  Which I'm sure doesn't sound too impressive until you realise that Ker-Bear's target was only 11,000.

We wandered around to get our bearings and decided on some key activities for the weekend:

1. Make your own silver ring;
2. Enter the Spirit Forest walk; and
3. Yoga at some point in time.

When we returned to camp for an early bed time, we discovered that someone had unceremoniously pitched up pretty much in front of our door.

At first, we didn't mind as it meant that at least no one was going to pitch their tent any closer so we still had a bit of space for our chairs and the camp mates seemed friendly enough.  So we assumed that this was a Good Thing.

Oh, how wrong we were.

Friday morning 3.00am

SHUT UP. SHUT UP. SHUTUP.SHUTUP.

It's amazing how quickly that mantra makes you feel like you are going insane.

The Camp Mates turned out to be Camp Horrors.

From 12-3am (ish) they screamed, shouted, played music and in general just were raucous (NOT what we had been expecting from such a Hippy Dippy festival thank you very much).

The true ramifications of this un-Godly behaviour would only become apparent to me in the respectable hours of the  morning.

Actual Friday morning 

(6.30am - the dawn light has arrived.  Inside a tent the condensation has started to gather and the occupants are acutely aware that the sun is definitely shining as they are cooking like boil in the bag rice. Lights up on a dozy AJ) 

KB: Amy? (From the other side of fly netting)

AJ: Yeah?

KB: I'm going to go for a shower and see what they are like.

AJ: Mm-hmm. See you later.

(KB toddles off in search of warm water.  Half an hour later KB returns and AJ is fully awake)

AJ: Alright, KB? Did you sleep okay?

(KB stares at AJ in horrified disbelief.  Her expression is clear 'Is that supposed to be some kind of sick joke?'  AJ belatedly senses the storm coming her way and braces for impact) 

KB: Right, let's just start this off with: I'm not a morning person anyway. So I'm already not happy. But I think I got about 2 hours sleep last night because of these idiots next door. (AJ refrains from pointing out that they are in a tent and The Idiots Next Door can probably hear this conversation fairly clearly). And I'm pretty sure they were doing drugs.  I heard them talking about coke and lines so that's fun. (AJ also refrains from pointing out that that is probably why they were awake so late.) And I was absolutely freezing (AJ refrains from pointing out that she had previously warned KB about the cool night temperatures. AJ is impressed with her ability to filter brain to mouth so early in the morning). And at one point about 3am I genuinely thought 'I can't do this and Amy is going to have to take me home'.  So no, I did not sleep okay and I feel shit.

(AJ ponders this for a moment and is slightly alarmed by KB's response as she is distressed and KB  is AJ's friend. Because AJ is the British-est thing to ever have Britished the next sentence pops out almost unthinkingly)

AJ: Well...shall we have some breakfast and a cup of tea? That might make you feel better.

(So they do.  And because KB is also the Britishest thing to ever have Britished; it works).

After (magic-weekend-saving) breakfast we headed into the festival with our picnic blankets and our water bottles.  First item of the day was Enter the Spirit Forest.  We went to the meeting point and saw lots of people milling about so we joined their group and followed them into the forest.

Where we entered the Land of the Fae and attended the Wychwood Ball by mistake.  Which we were supposed to pay for.

Whoops.

But it was awesome - it made us laugh, it made us me cry and it was a great start to what had not been a good day so far.

Also there was a really straight tree and KB was slightly worried by the amount of tree comments I made throughout the weekend.

Next on the to-do list was make our silver rings.

After we had bashed them with some hammers... #noshavingabovetheknee

The finished product!

Friday night we ended up watching Robert Plant for a while before meandering amongst the other bands and dancers that were around the Festival. We also marvelled at all the guests' clothes - the feathers, sequins, face paints and the bare legs.

Seriously, how do people survive the cold nights in shorts and crop tops!?  This is a mystery that I will never solve.

Because we are old people, we stripped off our multitudes of jumpers, I handed KB jogging bottoms and a fleece and we were in bed by 11pm.  Hoping for a slightly less disturbed night's sleep.

It was not to be. dear readers.

...To be continued.

(This is already a fairly long Blog Post so I will do Part 2 and 3 (Saturday and Sunday) in a separate post.)

&&Fin.