Listening to Celine Dion and dreaming of Nozstock.

... It's not my usual preference, but as I lie on my bed, in my parents spare room I realise the upstairs neighbour really loves her. I've not lived in a flat for so long, I forgot about the potential side effects/ benefits. It's a small price to pay for live-in childcare and the ability to save a couple more months salary before the trip. I hope the school holidays don't seem too long however, with noisy neighbours and living away from the children's friends and neighbours, though I'm   sure it'll be fine. 

We managed to survive the last day of school- it was an emotional journey (not as emotional as the neighbours singing, but close). Many times I choked back tears, Mike openly wept and the boys seemed... Strangely fine..!? They seemed to love the gifts and handing out the haribo so it really did seem to just be us who were traumatised. We weren't sure whether they'd be up for heading to Nozstock festival, so we packed up the car anyway and left it up to them. Turns out they couldn't wait to go! So off we went to meet our friends and have a weekend of silliness to act as antidote to sadness and goodbyes. 

Friends run a stage/ cafe called the Chicken Cow Cafe. They work with us at Glastonbury festival and have 2 kids of the same age as ours and are completely brilliant. They rang when we were on our way to say that they have pitched up at family camping instead of the crew field. It has a climbing frame, fire pit and goal nets. That sounds reasonable, right? Well yes, it was or would have been if we hadn't just chucked a whole load of camping gear in our car without bags or anything. Coupled with tearful goodbyes, a bad back and Friday summer holiday traffic this newsflash almost sent Mike over the edge... 

We we arrived onsite (with gritted teeth- stressed out...) and found out that if you asked the steward REALLY nicely and tell them that your husband is on the verge of a breakdown, they sometimes let you drive in to drop off your mountain of unpacked gear! (Hooray!!!) Nozstock really was the field of dreams. 

The children when we first arrived. (Note- still in uniform) 

The children when we first arrived. (Note- still in uniform) 

We headed straight to the cafe which is in a valley, so when it's not too busy you can let the children run down the slope to the other side. You can see them and they feel free! For this reason it remains their favourite place ever. 

The weekend was spent exploring- making clay tea cups, shouting into megaphones, juggling, Street performers and live music. We found an underground hideout with a secret passageway and that we loved an 8 piece jazz band from New Orleans. 

The kids in the Trance woods, climbing trees amongst UV butterflies. What's not to love? 

The kids in the Trance woods, climbing trees amongst UV butterflies. What's not to love? 

The best bit was of course the Cafe. We ran space hopper races (8 heats! I like to think my megaphone prowess added to its popularity) and the infamous 'Drag racing' . An annual event which makes me wet myself laughing.  

Can you spot Mike? 

Can you spot Mike? 

Then of course was the world famous Chicken shit bingo. £1 a ticket and if the hen poos on your number you win 50 quid. 70 goes to charity. It's tense, it silly, it's all to play for.  

Chicken shit bingo: Will the hen poo on 72?  

Chicken shit bingo: Will the hen poo on 72?  

The children's ultimate favourite was the Grooveyard Crew who DJed in the field opposite the cafe. They played tunes so catchy that our children were powerless to resist. I found them gangtsa dancing on the stage to an audience covered in paint and glitter. Our children were embraced into their bossom and heralded as the future between high fives and spontaneous dance routines. It never got tired being told by 20 year olds how wonderful our children were, even if it was through a rum haze (theirs not mine) but I couldn't help wish I was in it, rather than sipping my margarita from the sidelines. I blame that massage for knocking me sideways into a blissed out puddle. 

Speaking of which, the latest rendition of 'my heart will go on' requires my attention. I'm going to bask in the glow of handing in my notice and booking our first flight to Bali, in hopes it will counteract the howling coming from upstairs! Night!  

 

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