Friday, 22 July 2011

People Watching: The Gym



One of my favourite writers is a chap called Desmond Morris. For those not familiar with his work, he wrote the likes of 'the Naked Ape', 'the Human Zoo', 'Football Tribe' and 'People-Watching'. All of these books are about the study of Human Beings. Namely, what motivates us, what drives us to the heights of success and the depths of despair and ultimately why we really behave in the strange manner we often do.

The truth is, we all enjoy the art of people-watching. It's in our blood to be curious about others. Sometimes it's borne of our own anxieties and an inbuilt desire to conform to those around us, sometimes it's about the natural forces of attraction, and sometimes it's because we're just bloody nosy.

I am also a people-watcher. I don't own a pair of binoculars, nor do I (usually) spend my days hiding in poplar trees , but I do watch people as they come and go and wonder, "what's your story?" or "what's with the swagger? or more often, "what bloody bank did you rob in order to be driving that car?"

There are many good places to people watch where you may find individuals that are more quirky than the regular grey, formal commuters of our urban sprawl. For instance, sporting venues, music gigs, pubs, nightclubs and restaurants are all places where you will encounter the beast that is 'man'.

For the purpose of this post though, I am focusing my attentions on a place that has become a new addition to my own list of social venues; the Gym.



The Gym is such a perfect spot for people-watching because it is one of those rare places where the veil of respectability slips. Under the duress of physical strain and stress, the swarve, cool and well presented folk of the world soon become sweaty, grunting maniacs and a more natural state is revealed.

The Landscape

As Simon King and co will tell you, to be an effective nature watcher you must immerse yourself into the landscape. You must become as much a part of it as the rocks and the trees. In Gym terms, this means getting a membership.

Upon receiving your membership card, and before you can enter the gym on your own, you must participate in the humiliating ritual of 'induction'. This generally involves joining a small group of people and being guided round by an extremely smug looking person with a very loud voice who will explain the workings of the gym machines/weights etc in the most patronizing manner possible.



This is made all the more uncomfortable by the casual glances of seasoned gym veterans who eye you in a manner akin to a Lion observing the birth of a Thompson's Gazelle from afar. This analogy continues, as much like a newly born fawn you are thrown straight into the workings of the gym from then on.



Your average public multi-gym will be divided into specific territories. The remainder of this post will look more closely at each of these areas, and more specifically, the creatures that dwell there. The following map will give you some idea of what a typical gym might look like:

CLICK IMAGE FOR HIGH-RES GYM-VIEW


Upon entering a gym, apart from the stench of sweaty bodies, the first thing you will notice is the shockingly awful 'motivational' music that is being played. Usually of the dance/pop/r&b variety it is characterised by a high tempo, sexually gratuitous imagery and annoying lyrics about bitches, money, sex and/or grinding one's booty:



(TOP TIP - buy an MP3 player and load up the Rocky soundtrack before entering)

Once this auditory assault has passed, you're ready to explore the inner workings of the gym.

The cardio area



Occupying a large section of the terrain, the cardio area is a gathering point for most of the flora and fauna that occupy the gym. Exercise bikes, treadmills, cross trainers and rowing machines dot the landscape and are in constant use by a wide variety of gym-goers.

Exercise mats and funny coloured balls area (The EMFCBA)



Generally positioned out of the way of any thoroughfares/game trails, the EMFCBA is an area much used by some of the more seasoned gym goers. It is a place for lying down (sometimes on giant coloured bouncy balls) and contorting one's body into a variety of awkward and unnatural positions in order to attain maximum flexibility and durability in muscles that will soon become hideously overworked. It is an entirely necessary stop-off point for those wishing to engage in long gym sessions.

The complicated looking weightlifting equipment area (CLWEA)



Looking like a center for grotesque medical experiments, the CLWEA contains machinery that you need a degree in engineering to operate correctly. The CLWEA is more varied in its application to weight training than the more 'hardcore' freeweights area and it is another territory of the gym that attracts a wide variety of life.

The free-weights area



Truly, the gym's 'heart of darkness'. Few venture into this territory, unless in possession of a strong constituency and a ridiculously exaggerated pair of guns. In fact, many of the occupants of the free weights area spend little time elsewhere and as such, are deeply territorial. Not for the faint hearted.

The mirrored wall area



The Island of Borneo is home to the much photographed wildlife spectacles that are the Birds of Paradise. Male Birds of Paradise spend almost all their time pruning themselves and practicing their mating dances which define them and has made them a nature photographers dream. The mirrored wall area offers the gym-goer a chance to find their own inner 'bird of paradise' via the indulgence of self admiration through posing. Unsurprisingly it is dominated mainly by the males of the species.

Despite any wishes to, gurning and Hulk Hogan style flexing in this area is deeply frowned upon by those people who clearly have taken the art of posing to a whole new level.

The Wildlife

The Fawn (Newbius-patheticus)



As described above, fawns are the mainstay of the gymnasium ecosystem and can be readily identified by the looks of wonder and confusion in their eyes. A natural hesitancy displayed in their actions, coupled with an awkward gait and an unshapely figure are also some tell-tale signs of a fawn.

Starting out in gym life, a fawn will gravitate towards the cardio machines without much conscious thought, as the area is usually occupied by many other fawns, and a natural 'safety in numbers' principle applies. This territory also contains machines that are easy to operate, and as most people have either ran or ridden a bike before, it is the most accessible equipment for the environmentally overwhelmed fawn.

Once a sense of stability is attained, a fawn will venture further out from the cardio area and begin to explore the other territories. More often, this natural evolution extends firstly to the CLWEA where they will begin to mix more with more hardened gym lifeforms. The use of most equipment in this area will be attempted by fawns, with varying degrees of success. Some machines though will remain tantalisingly out of reach for many fawns due to their indecipherable operating procedures.

Very rarely a new-born fawn will mistakenly venture into the free weights area - which will generally be met with covert curiosity by the more permanent residents. However, as the fawn struggles to find anything to do than can match the hernia-inducing antics that are being showingly demonstrated around them, they will quickly retreat in the knowledge that they may need to be more patient and pace themselves before they can respectably re-apply their efforts to this area.

As the fawn will probably not have realised the necessity of using the exercise mats and funny balls (i.e. they haven't suffered any stress injury as yet) their gym odyssey will end at this point, at least for the time being. You will hardly ever see a fawn making use of the mirrored wall area, as cradling a beer-belly in full public view whilst making overstated lunging gestures probably isn't anyone's idea of fun.

Many gym goers remain as fawns for a protracted period of time, and are mostly culled from the gym as a result of injury, diminished motivation and/or cold weather. Those few that survive this stage will inevitably evolve into a more highly developed gym species.

The Antelope (Staminus-Ridiculus)



The Antelope is a perfectly evolved gym-creature. Sporting high quality clothing and all necessary accessories (stop watch, mp3 carrying arm band, towel and hydration unit), they are comfortably equipped for extended stays in the gym environment.

The cardio area is their territory of choice, with the Antelope demonstrating levels of stamina and endurance unparallelled by all other gym residents.

As a well defined and graceful creature, the Antelope, whilst lacking the overt swagger of some its rival gym goers, is defined by an air of focus and determination.

Antelopes, while predominantly found in the cardio area can also be found twisting their bodies into unnatural positions in the Exercise mats/funny coloured balls area as a precursor to their marathon length stints on the cardio equipment.

The Antelope is truly the most naturally suited, all-purpose inhabitant of the gym landscape and other gym residents should give them a wide berth whilst they are in full cardio exercise mode, for fear of inadvertently engaging them in a competition of treadmill endurance - which will always end in humiliation for the challenger.

The Silverback (Hairus-Maximus)



Born to a gym in full form, the Silverback is the true behemoth of the gym. The Silverback is as recognisable for their hulking frame as for their extraordinary volume of body hair, which is clearly displayed to the world thanks to their default gym wear - the vest.

Ill suited for cardio based exercise, or indeed any other stamina based activity, the Silverback tends to concentrate their efforts in the free weights and complicated weightlifting equipment areas.

Using a weightlifting machine immediately after a Silverback will reveal their freakish strength as you find it has been set to a weight that most people couldn't lift with a winch and pulley.

Despite their fearsome exteriors, Silverbacks are usually placid and friendly creatures who enjoy the social aspects of the gym having become bored with their more mundane routines of pulling planes with their ears and hurling oil barrels through flaming hoops.

The Chicken-Man (Girlius-Legelus)



Closely related to the Silverback in appearance, Chicken-men are also distinguishable by their hulking upper body frames. However, there are two major differences that set them apart from the their gym going cousins. Firstly, they possess less body hair than a Manx cat and are supported by legs that are less defined than those of an average 6 year old child.



The lack of body hair is clearly a self inflicted state for most Chicken-men and may be as a direct result of a chemical addiction to Veet. The grossly underdeveloped lower limbs are caused by a lack of exercise in the cardio areas which is further accentuated by their exaggerated torsos.

It also appears that Chicken-men have a natural dysfunction when it comes to selecting appropriately fitting clothing. A typical Chicken-man will sport vests and t-shirts that were designed for small Korean men and/or the under 12s.

The final discerning traits of the Chicken-man are firstly their permanent bright orange glow caused by regular exposure to high levels of ultra-violet radiation/sheila's tanning salon and secondly, their perfectly coiffured hairstyles which are held in place by means of an industrial adhesive.

The lesser spotted Chicken-woman can sometimes be found amongst their male counterparts and share certain characteristics such as a bright orange glow, tight fitting clothing and well defined arms and shoulders. It is their gravity defying breasts and platinum blonde locks that mark them out as the female of the species.



Chicken-men are most commonly found grunting and strutting around the free weights area and can also be found admiring their glowing orange torsos in the mirrored wall area.

On occasion, suitably endowed Chicken-men who lose their sense of vanity and amass a rug of body hair have been known to evolve into Silverbacks.

The Lioness (Poseus-Poutus)



Lionesses are female gym residents who occasionally amass in the presence of alpha-male gym goers such as experienced Chicken-men, Silverbacks and less commonly grazing Antelopes.

Readily identified by their graceful form and tittering outbursts of laughter, these groups are fiercely competitive within their own ranks as they vie for attention from the often overwhelmed (but always enamoured) males. In short, they do for post modern feminism what Adolf Hitler did for European race relations.

Despite their pouting nature and girlish disposition, be warned, they will happily scowl and snarl at any perceived lesser females who try to ingratiate themselves with their targeted males.

When they are not shamelessly flirting with Silverbacks and Chicken-men, Lionesses can usually be found exuding their physical superiority over female fawns in the cardio area or performing impossibly lithe bodily contortions in the exercise/funny balls area.

The Wise-Owl (informaticus-extensivus)



The final stage of the gym's evolutionary process (explained in more detail below) sees all gym goers change into Wise-Owls.

Wise-Owls are the elder statesmen/women of the gym. Coming in a variety of shapes and sizes depending on their genetic gym history, they are particularly difficult to identify. Sometimes, though not always, a more senior age is one giveaway, although as most Wise-Owls are in excellent physical condition, it can be sometimes be difficult to accurately guess their age. Most commonly, they can be identified through the observable reverence that is attributed to them.

Wise-Owls may sometimes adopt advisory roles and if identified, can assist fawns in their quest to become better acclimatised to the gym environment.

Despite sometimes being past their own peak of physical condition, they are still a force to be reckoned with and can provide an invaluable source of advice to any fawn fortunate enough to be taken 'under the wing' of a Wise-Owl.

The evolutionary gym tree


The evolutionary map of the gym is demonstrated above. A green tag indicates the early era of gym life – the fawn stage. All gym goers start life in this form and will later evolve into a more evolved/adapted creature. The exception to this is the Silverback, who arrives to the gym fully formed.

Given time and dedication, the fawn will inevitably adapt into a stage 2 animal (denoted above by a orange tag) dependent on sex. Both male and female fawns can evolve into an Antelope, but only females can evolve into Lionesses or Chicken-women. Some Chicken-men who lose their preoccupation with grooming and who are able to develop their feeble leg muscles will occasionally mutate into Silverbacks.

Ultimately though, after years of dedication, all regulars of the gym terrain will evolve into the final form (denoted in red), the Wise-Owl.

And finally, about me....

I would probably describe myself as an adolescent gazelle. I've managed to pass newborn fawn syndrome and now feel more comfortable in the surroundings but still have a lot to learn about the complexities of gym-going.

As far as my evolutionary future is concerned, it's touch and go. A cold winter coupled with a bout of man-flu may be enough to see me off. I'm certainly not going to develop into a Chicken Man (there's too much hair to remove without significant logistical issues) and a hulking Silverback is not how I, nor others would describe me. There is a small chance that I might evolve into an Antelope, but age is not on my side and I'm not sure I have the athletic mindset required for the job.

Nevertheless, for the time being I will persevere and will report back on any new and interesting species that I have not discovered thus far.

Friday, 27 May 2011

Bloody Brilliant Britain: Summer Music Festivals



British Summertime is upon us. ASDA stores nationwide are stocking up on charcoal briquettes and '3 for 1' meat selections, the suburban contingent are scraping 12 month old burger residue from their BBQ racks, and pubs up and down the country are chiseling bird shit off their outdoor tables.



Summer is also the time that music lovers across the nation congregate together in huge fields to listen to their favourite artists and dress up like escaped mental patients.



I'm talking of course, about the great British Summer music festival:



As I have had the distinct privilege of attending several of these defining British events over the last ten years, I will attempt to provide you, the reader, with a guide to a festival weekend.
  1. Choosing a Festival
  2. Getting there
  3. Camping
  4. Festival Goers
  5. The Weather
  6. Food and Drink
  7. The Dreaded Toilets
  8. Navigation and Communication Tactics
  9. Campsite Shenanigens
  10. Going Home

Step 1 - Choosing the festival that's right for you


Some people go to festivals because of the line-up of musical artists, some go to experience the very distinctive atmosphere that a festival provides, while some are merely curious and wish to dip their toes into the proverbial waters.

Festival organisers are very conscious of the variety of factors that motivate people to attend, so each major UK summer music festival is quite different from the next.

There has been a real explosion in the number of festivals that occur during the summer months, the following is a list of 5 of the major ones:

1) Glastonbury
2) Reading & Leeds (Carling Festival)
3) V-Festival
4) Download
5) Isle of Wight

There are literally dozens, if not hundreds of other festivals. Sometimes they are small independent festivals that offer a more intimate festival experience. Many of these are well set up and some have reasonably 'big' names on the musical front, but what they lack of course is the overwhelming size and human-variety that you would associate with one of the major UK music festivals

Step 2 - Getting there

In short, getting to a major music festival is a right nightmare. When 50'000+ people are all trying to get to the same place, you know there's going to be trouble.

Travelling by car is a good idea in principle - squeeze all your camping gear into the boot, cram a few mates in the back and off you go. However, upon nearing the festival campsite the queuing is usually horrendous and can last for hours.



Also, most car parks are literally miles from the campsites (In the case of the Reading Festival - a boat ride away). Such distances mean that carrying all your heavy gear from a car to a festival campsite is one of the most arduous tasks that a festival goer will experience. This unavoidable labour is commonly known as 'the lug'.



Travelling by public transport is also possible - although as festivals generally take place in rural settings, it is not always that easy. Fortunately, the bigger festivals usually operate shuttle-buses to ferry revellers from nearby transport hubs into the festival grounds. Often (but not always), these shuttle buses are allowed to park a bit nearer the main campsites, thus reducing the dreaded 'lug' mentioned above.


Step 3 - Camping

Accommodation at music festivals is not exactly what you might describe as luxurious. There are no en-suite showers, no daily housekeeping services and you will almost certainly never find a mint on your pillow (having a pillow in the first place would be luxury enough).



Instead, your home for the duration of the festival is likely to be a small, cramped, garishly coloured tent. Not only will it be your main place of rest during the festival, it is your first line in protection against the uncompromising bitch that is Mother Nature.

Tents come in all shapes and sizes, from flimsy little 1/2 man domes through to monstrous, multi-compartment 'mansion-tents'.

In my opinion, the perfect festival tent is a 3 man, mid height dome tent with a canopy to protect the entrance.



This sort of tent (as modelled above in true catalogue style by my good friend Nick) is big enough for a couple of people and their belongings. You should always subtract 1 from whatever the recommended personage limit is - i.e. assume that a 3 man can only comfortably fit 2 people. A tent of this size will be relatively lightweight, and therefore less of a burden during 'the lug'.

Selecting an appropriate spot for festival camping is of crucial importance. Quite simply, a lack of planning in this regard can lead to outright disaster.

Fear not though, as I have three simple rules to aid this selection process:

1) Where possible, always camp on higher ground. In the event of torrential rain, people camping at the bottom of hills or in low basin-like fields will get flooded out.


2) For the love of God, don't camp anywhere too near a toilet block! We'll cover toilets in more detail later, but needless to say that camping near portaloos is only advisable for people with no sense of smell.

3) Don't camp near thoroughfares. Drunken revellers have a habit of tripping over guide ropes and crashing through tents. Camping near any sort of public walkway makes this potential occurrence a near certainty.


Of course, you should always aim to get to a festival early in order to ensure that you are able to observe these three rules. Latecomers to festivals will usually find that their camping options are limited to a ditch next to a leaky portaloo near the busiest thoroughfare on the campsite.

If there is a group of you camping together, you should attempt to arrange your tents in a ring like structure with little proximity between tents on the perimeter, but enough space in the middle of the ring to allow you to sit around a nice fire. It is quite useful to adorn your campsite with something recognisable to you, so that you are able to find your campsite amongst the masses of tents that are present at a major music festival. A great big flag with a phrase close to your heart, such as 'we luv tits/cock', would be sufficient:



Step 4 - The hardy festival goer

There is a spectrum describing festival goers known as the (fg) scale. At one end is the 'wreck-head' (fg1):



At the other, is the 'bear-gryllian' (fg10).



For wreckheads, most of what I have wrote in this blog need not apply. They simply turn up to a festival, make a half-cocked attempt at pitching a tent before fucking off on a multi-day mega-bender. The chances of them finding their campsite or ever seeing their belongings again are slim.

On the other hand, the Bear-Gryllian is the crack-commando of festival goers. They have a utensil for every occasion, can pitch a tent so perfectly that it would withstand Hurricane Katrina.

Whether you realise it or not, you will be somewhere on this spectrum. I would consider myself to be somewhere between an fg6-7. This is on account of being a bit more considered in my approach to festivaling (this post should give that away!), but always failing to remember a few key items and not being the most able fire-lighter.



What is true though, is that those at either end of the fg scale will enjoy the festival in their own particular way.

Step 5 - The weather

A wise man once said, "there's no such thing as the wrong sort of weather, just the wrong sort of clothing". Barring extreme weather events that are seriously able to "fuck yo' shit up", this is largely very true.

Providing that you are adequately prepared, it really shouldn't matter too much what the weather is doing:



Saying this though, there is definitely such a thing as perfect festival weather, which i believe is as follows:

Daytime
  • 18-25 degrees C
  • A slight breeze
  • Sunny with ever so slightly cloudy skies to provide the odd moment of shade
Night-time
  • 10-15 degrees C
  • Clear starry skies (perfect for zoned out cosmic gazing - I once saw a UFO at a festival - no shit!)
If you get these conditions at a festival, consider yourself very fortunate, for as you know UK weather is nothing if not unpredictable.

Very hot, sunny weather at a festival is problematic due to the fact that most of us Brits are pasty bastards and get 2nd degree burns from being in direct sunlight for more than 30 seconds. In addition, hot and sunny weather mixed with alcohol leads to elevated levels of drunkenness and doubles the subsequent effect of hangovers.




On the other hand, wet weather can be really miserable. Fields become sloshy, near impassable mudbaths and everything you own is permanently soggy.



For just such variations in weather, I have a list of the top festival essentials that will help you cope with these adverse weather conditions:

Wet Weather:

Wellies - the 4x4 of outdoor footwear. Stride through deep puddles as your friend searches desperately for their missing flip-flop.

Waterproof trousers - As your pal frustratedly peels denim from sodden flesh, bask in the glory of 'bone dry' legs.

Poncho - Your own mobile tent. Laugh outwardly as the rain bounces off your water repellent shell.

Hot Weather:


Wide brimmed hat - Live in the luxury of your own shadow.

Factor 3'000'000 sunscreen (Only necessary for pasty buggers like me) - Don't leave yourself looking like a well done lobster, apply a thick coat of white gunk to all exposed body parts.

Bottle of Water - keep a handy vile of Earth-pop on you at all times to alleviate the effects of 'spinning-head' and 'wobbly-legs'.

Step 6 - Food and Drink

Contrary to popular opinion, good quality food and drink are available in abundance at music festivals. From simple burger vans to organic vegetarian alternatives to aromatic Chinese food stalls, there is a wealth of top notch nosh about. Unfortunately, it's all bloody expensive.



You see, rather than competing with each other on price as would the case in any normal goods and services market, the crafty vendors get together in 'Godfather' like fashion with the festival bosses to agree on set prices that are over and above what you might find out in the wider world. Pure extortion.







"I'M GONNA MAKE HIM A BURGER HE CAN'T REFUSE!"








You can, of course, bring your own food, but the hassle of carrying in the supplies coupled with the inconvenience of needing to return to your campsite every time you want to eat makes it rather impractical. It's best if you budget to spend a few quid and begrudgingly pay the high prices. At least you'll won't have to live on pot noodles and soup all weekend!

Alcoholic beverages are similarly expensive too, which is why so many choose to add to the pain of 'the lug' and bring their own. With this in mind, it's advisable to become a drinker of spirits during a festival weekend, as a few bottles of tipple along with a customary mixer, will keep you rosy cheeked and heavy of wallet.

If you're beer drinker like me, you'll just have to put up with 'humping' a crate to you campsite. I do still recommend sampling the odd draft beer though, at whatever cost, as I have quite unexpectedly stumbled upon some excellent pints while at festivals. In particular, the Carling served at Reading a few years back was 10 times better than any other Carling I have ever sampled elsewhere. Strange but true.

Step 7 - The Dreaded Toilets

So, you've helped yourself to one of Mr Wing's Chow Mein & Chips combo boxes, necked 5 pints of ale and are starting to feel a stirring in your belly. Suddenly, an involuntary fart heralds the news that you are soon going to need to 'drop the kids off at the pool'. But where do you go? What do you do? FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WHAT DO I DO??!!



Calm down. It's going to be alright. Shit happens (mind the pun). Follow my instructions and you'll get through this:

First off, make sure you have some loo roll. You are not at the Hilton and there is no guarantee that you will be able to find any should you need it. Also, as you may be stepping into a confined area that has been previously used for defecation, you should also consider using an odour nullifier, such as a can of deoderant, or a smell reducer, such as a surgical mask or a menthol rub for your nose.



At a festival you may occasionally find fairly 'upmarket' temporary toilet blocks, with decent lavatories and even hand wash basins - unfortunately though, they are few and far between! What you'll usually be dealing with is the cramped, poorly lit plastic chamber known as the portaloo:



As portaloos at festivals are usually only emptied on a daily basis, for the majority of the time, they are filled with the waste product of hundreds of individuals. As such they all stink.

Some are far worse than others though. You can generally grade a portaloo between 1-5:

GRADE1 - Not bad. Clean surfaces, slight pong, bog roll still available.

GRADE 2 - Still clean. Even more repellent odour, no bog roll.

GRADE 3 - Very smelly, noticable clumps of faecal matter inside toilet bowl. No bog roll.

GRADE 4 - Eye wateringly pongy, piss all over seat, shit starting to block toilet drain.

GRADE 5 - Vomit inducing odour, shit on the floor, piss everywhere. Suspicious looking brown handprints on walls.

These are the usual grades of portaloo. You should make a mental note of these, and if you enter a 3 or above, feel no shame in leaving it post-haste.

However, there is one more grade of portaloo not on the standard list. If you are unfortunate enough to happen upon one of these, you have my deepest sympathies. I did once, and feel lucky to be here to tell the tale:

GRADE X - Satanic rituals were conducted in this place and formed an opening to the bowels of hell itself.



Two words describe the only GRADE X that I ever saw; nappies & blood.


Step 8 - Navigation and Comms tactics











If you're attending a festival with a load of mates, the chances that you will all want to stick together and do the same thing is unlikely. Due to the wide variety of entertainment available, you will no doubt find that your group splinters as individuals disappear off to go and watch different things.

The trouble with this is that finding your friends in an ocean of people is not the easiest thing to do. Despite recent technological advancements, mobile communication is often useless. This is mainly because:

1) Mobile networks are at breaking point and signal is often not available
2) Text messages take literally hours to receive
3) Even if you do manage to get 'on the blower', chances are that you won't be able to hear a thing anyway.



As a result of these problems, should you want to re-group, you will have to stick to a more traditional method. I call it GPRS - General pisshead recognition system.

General Pisshead Recognition System (GPRS)











Distinctive clothing (DC) + Recognisable Rendevous Point (RRP) = 90% Regroup success.


Wearing something that can be readily recognised by your peers is not a new concept. Soldiers have been doing it since forever. Unfortunately, brightly coloured garments alone won't always do the trick as festivals are awash an ocean of brightly coloured individuals.

Something more striking is required.As it can be hard to see through dense crowds, any distinctive item worn from the chest downwards may be hidden from view. As such, headwear works best.

Perhaps the best example of GPRS (DC) I have ever seen at a festival was sported by some friends of mine from the west country. Their adornments of choice were large straw hats with giant (possibly albatross) feathers poking out of the top. The beacon-esque nature of these hats meant that should you wander within a hundred feet of the individual, you would instantly recognise them. Job done.

DC is not quite enough though as it still demands a degree of proximity to the subject. The second element of GRPS must also be employed, 'Recognisable rendevous point' (RRP).

Suitable RRP cannot be determined by the usual linguistics of convening. Saying "I'll meet you by the main stage" is about as useful as agreeing to meet someone near a pine tree in the New Forest.

Instead, you need to agree on a small, named location. Stage areas and tents don't really work so you'll need to be more creative. It may seem obvious, but don't choose anywhere near toilet blocks or fences as you'll be stood sniffing freshly expelled urine for the duration of your wait.

Providing that you all know where it is, something like ' near Dave's Donut Stand' would be a good location. If it is in the proximity of a music stage, all the better as you can chill out and listen to some tunage as you wait for your friends to re-appear.



This is where DC comes back into play, as despite picking a good location, with so many people about it can still be hard to spot your friends. A tufty eagle feather or giant alien head will aid this task immensely (yes it's him again:)



Even with effective GPRS employed, success is never a 100% certainty due to the weird and wonderful paths that a day at a festival may present to you. So don't stress, grab a donut from Dave's stand and be on your way. An agreed RRP means you can always come back later to see whether anyone you know has turned up.

Step 9 - Campsite shenanigens

Other than FG1 Wreckheads, for most the time will come to return to the campsite to chill out and grab a few hours kip before starting a new festival day.

Upon returning to your campsite, one of the first tasks that must be undertaken is the construction of a good fire. Sadly, I'm no expert in this area, but my friend has written a recent blog post on this very subject, so i'll point you in that direction for some fire building guidance from a qualified(ish) expert:

'Talking a good game - Man vs Fire'

With your fire constructed, pull up a pew, crack open a can of warm lager, sit back and enjoy the warming glow.



Fires tend to have an uncanny knack of hypnotising people and this will often lead to a discussion about why exactly this is the case. My own explanation is that it is a reaction so primal that it dates back to the first time a human-being lit a fire. Namely, that the group of people who first lit a fire were so overawed by their creation that they were stunned into silence and their reaction has been passed down instinctively through the generations.

Once a fire has been built, there are two tasks required to maintain it that are usually passed around a group without dispute. Prodding and chucking.

A 'prodder' will have a handy stick to stoke the fire and a 'chucker' will periodically throw more fuel (i.e. bits of wood, cardboard etc) on the fire as required. Neither task is particularly labour intensive, but both are of crucial importance in prolonging the life of the fire.

A particularly good fire has the habit of attracting festival goers to your campsite like to moths to a flame. As a result, you will usually get one or two random visitors during the course of an evening. Fortunately, 99.9% of festival goers are decent sorts and merely wish to bask in the warmth of your crackling hearth and regail you with the tales of their respective days. Always embrace these passers by with open arms, as you may want the favour to be returned some day.

As the flames recede and the cold night air returns to envelop you, you may choose to retire to your tent and grab a brief few hours of shut-eye. However, unless you passout due to exhaustion or over-consumption of alcohol, you will be serenaded to sleep by a cacophony of sound very much akin to that of a rainforest.



You see, much like a rainforest, a festival campsite is occupied by all manner of creatures attempting to communicate over vast distances. Birds (as in the feathered variety) solve this problem by using a specific pitch of sound that is recognisable to others of their own species and indeed, so do festivalgoers.

The creatures of the festival jungle have their own unique cries and calls. For instance, at almost every festival i've been to, I have heard the cry of the "I am Spartacus" guy, which is always met with the customary response "NO! I am Spartacus!". As this reverberates around the campsite, 'Spartacus' is usually replaced with other more obscure references such as:

"I am Moira Stewart"
"I am the one armed man"
"I am Captain Horatio Hornblower"
"I am unable to use my legs"

Being at a music festival encourages many people also opt to take their own instruments, so you can usually enjoy a few impromptu musical recitals as you doze off. Although, as my friend James once proved, people will only tolerate so much before they express their distaste. His solo rendition of the 'Little Shop of Horrors' score proved so unpopular that he was told to keep the noise down by neighbouring campers- a request that I have never previously encountered whilst at a music festival.



The end is nigh....

So you've seen a bonanza of fantastic music, you've experienced the unique vibe of festival life, you've filled your mind and soul with an air of eccentricity found nowhere else....and you've probably gotten quite intoxicated along the way. Unfortunately it's now time to bid goodbye to your makeshift society and head back to the grey doldrums of normal, everyday life.



Leaving a festival can be a complicated, often frustrating and for some a heartbreaking experience. One of my favourite festival experiences happened at the Reading Festival in 2005, when upon leaving, I found myself having to console a young FG1 wreckhead who was massively distraught at the prospect of having to leave. He said that he hadn't slept in days but had had the time of his life and didn't think he could cope with life back in the real world. He had clearly been ingested by the festival gods who were now in the process of spitting him back out again. In classic good Samaritan fashion, I put my arm around him and told him it'd be alright, and that he'd be back amongst his kin for another tour of duty in a year's time. As he staggered off into the distance I can remember thinking that it would probably all be a fading blur of music and fire for him in a few days time, as he sat down to an evening meal with his parents and discussed his future employment options. Still, he would be back to rediscover his true 'wreckhead' self one day.

The knack of leaving a festival in the least frustrating fashion is either to leave absurdly early or extremely late. Either way, you will likely avoid the massive crowds and traffic jams that are commonplace when leaving at the normal times. Most festivals end on the Sunday night, with revellers packing up and going home on mass between about 10am - 1pm on the Monday. Naturally these are the times to avoid.

Leaving Early

Leaving early is a rather stange experience. It is best achieved, not by shooting off as soon as the final guitar string is plucked, but instead, at sometime between 5am-8am on the Monday morning. At this time, the campsite is largely tranquil and peaceful. Those not passed out in their tents are usually found wondering around talking to themselves, or sitting and staring into space, contemplating the wonders of the cosmos.



As such, for those motivated enough, leaving at this time is a crowd free and largely straightforward task.

Leaving late

Apart from being routinely hassled by stewards who want you to "get offe thar land", leaving a festival late can be quite handy as you are likely to miss the queues, you can have a nice chill whilst others are stressing and more importantly, it gives you ample time to indulge in the art of looting.

You see, at the end of any festival, the rules of taking another person's property are turned on their head and pillaging becoming rife. It's not so much that stealing is suddenly allowed, it's just that many people decide to abandon their stuff so as not to have to carry it back home with them. An odd concept I admit, but for some the benefit of an easy 'lug' home outweighs the benefit of them retaining their belongings.



So with the owners having left their camping goods at the mercy of the elements, the looter can begin their work.

The three most common items that you will find are as follows:
  • Tents
  • Camping Chairs
  • Beer
I've found everything from hiking boots to giant inflatable rubber mallets and strings of sausages (not fit for consumption i might add) in my time. Even if you don't take anything, it's worth a having a good rumage, as it appeals to our subsistence level roots.

The return to Normality....

As your homestead nears, take a moment to reflect on the good times you've had and vow to take on board the teachings of your festival days:

Mine are usually:

- Life is full of variety - so make the most of it.
- Most people are generally 'good eggs', so park the xenophobia.
- Good community spirit is well underrated.
- A good bed is a privilege, and shouldn't be taken for granted.
- A hot bath is a truly joyous thing.