A Dad at Leeds Fest

So. For my daughters 18th birthday we HAD to take her to Leeds Festival. Now we have always loved great music and attended countless open air concerts, but never had we experienced a multi stage festival. Guess what - I didn't really fancy it!

Leeds Fest is a mere 32 miles away from home with a direct route from our place via the A1. The A1, a valid source of moaning, guaranteed to put you in a bad mood; why? because of the contstant tail backs for no apparent reason! Finally, after a hour and a half, we had managed to traverse this short distance to exit at junction 45.

We joined the slow queue to Leeds Fest. A long line of traffic winding along a crater filled farm track that took us most of the way back to junction 44! As expected (and I blame my age - just on the wrong side of 50) I wasn't in the best of moods by now.

Finally (after another hour) we parked up in RED 4 (note to self, try to work out a way to relocate your car if you are ever in this predicament again). We left the car to be accosted by Hare Krishna Pete who showed me an official badge and exclaimed I had been caught on camera. My anger increased and I was about to give him a piece of my mind when he added "for not smiling." I scowled at him (he didn't expect this, having dealt with fun-loving kids all morning). Despite the scowl, I handed over my supply of 'spare' cash"! which he asked for so elequently - after all, it was to help the poor..?

A long trek across another muddy field and the "old man" started to voice his opinion on how the barriers could have been better positioned to avoid the mud (now an inch deep) that channelled the herds of humans towards the entrance; and how they could have perhaps invested in some wood chippings - that will do the trick!

We approached a tent which we thought was full of people pulling pints. But no, this was a most ingenious tagging ceromony (which I simply can't describe). Now armed with our colourful wrist bands proclaiming we were mere day attenders, we entered the largest and most disorganised campsite I had ever seen. As far as the eyes could see in all directions, a mass of coloured tents and gazebos. Distinguishing this place from a refugee camp was the abundance of food vans, fairground rides and stalls offering to charge your phone (£5 for 2 hours - bargain!).

The further we entered the camp, the deeper and wetter the mud became. It was now spilling over the top of my boots as we negotiated a steep decline (tip: use the zig zag method, this way your path is less treacherous) before wading through an entire mud lake.

We abandoned our daughter to the mercy of her friends (a tribe of mud-covered welly-wearers) and we searched for a bar. As CAMRA members (probably the only 2 in camp!) we were prepared to be unimpressed with the choice of lagers, ciders and canned beers on offer. Then, to our amazement, we spotted the ALE BAR, with no queue at all and bored staff, this was our favourite place - hurray! A shout out here for #Otter Brewery, you rock! (another tip: always ensure the wife is assigned as dedicated driver).

£5.20 (well, what do you expect at such a venue?) secured me a nice pint of ale in a plastic container, half of which was spilled by a young Geordie lad who exclaimed "I'm TOTALLY not looking where I'm going, me!'

"I can see that," says I. Question - how is it the use of the word 'Totally' expressed in nothing but a Geordie accent, excuses the user of any offence?

We entered the music arena and found there were so many stages that we didn't know which way to turn. After missing the first few bands we chose a stage and sat outside whilst the band set up. We were in an enclosed area of solid boards, all of which were intermittently being used as urinals by the inebriated and back rests by weary festivalers (yes I know - probably not a word, but I like it). My maturity insisted that I inform the latter of their error when a stewardess (of our age) suggested they may wish to move to a less wet and smelly area - they chose to stay! (another note to self - obviously not trendy to sit in dry clean areas. Also not trendy to use the word 'trendy').

Now I am not a music critic by no means, but the following bands hailing from various parts of the United States were fab: #Beach Slang , #Half Moon Run, and my favourites #Cage the Elephant, the lead singer reminiscent of a young Mick Jagger. #Rat boy also deserve a mention, especially as their rock/punk/rap style alloweds all the older folk who sensibly congregated around the outsides of the crowd to dance like lunatics.

By the time we reached the main stage I had begun to acclimatise to this surreal place. The beers were taking effect and maybe the mud had seeped into my veins also. Here I slept through #@The Vaccines, except for when they played 'Bad Mood' (a song my wife insists is about me!). Due to a visit to another stage we missed most of #Fall Out Boy (who are always brilliant). But finally, the band we had waited for entered to great applause. #Biffy Clyro proclaimed themselves 'Son Of God' and you know what, no one disagreed!

Fully satisfied with the show we joined the 90.000 heading through the now sticky mud to the exits or tents. We were meeting our daughter and one of her friends (Mags), who was returning to Rotherham with us. Mags however was lost in the Green area and we, of course, were trying to head towards Red! We made our way through this weird landscape of tents, campfires, and revellers; it was dark, lit only by red lanterns, it was eerie, it was noisy, yet there was a calm feeling to it. Groups of people sitting around fires, singing songs - more Biffy, eating, smoking who knows what; some caked in mud, lots of lads bare chested - most shaking from the chill now descending. As we approached the gate it was getting darker. By now I wanted to stay!

We waited for Mags, she didn't turn up! Numerous text messages exchanged suggested that the stewards hired to direct the crowd did not have a clue as to the layout of this place; a suspicion confirmed as we waited at the only exit gate to the carpark, witnessing dozens of lost souls in search of shuttle buses being sent in the wrong direction, even one ambulance crew who after asking "are you expecting us?" were miles off course.

I decided to take control and so discarding text protocol, I actually called Mags. The poor girl sounded terrified and so I directed her as only an experienced dad can - with logic. Our reference point, a huge ferris wheel, which could be seen for miles could not be seen by Mags - oh dear! However, she had an idea where the wheel was and set off in a hurry. Dad mode kicked in again and grabbing my own daughter, we set off back into the mud to meet Mags. Estimating where our paths would cross we waited at a junction of two mud paths. "Keep your eyes peeled," I said. "By the way, what does she look like?"

We are now looking for one dark skinned girl with long black curly hair - one girl in 40,000! Half hour at the junction and a worried girl accompanied by an equally worried boy walked past. The boy caught my eye, he saw my determination - to succeed in my mission. He pointed at me and I called out - "Is that Mags?" Relief flooded their faces - miracle number one.

My wife had left us at the gate - she had gone in search of the car despite my warnings (she always knows best!). We followed her, as directed, to the Red carpark - but it wasn't ours! The car parks were huge fields, they were in pitch dark - no lighting at all! This particular one had taxs in it, they were sinking in the mud as they awaited the fares that had not turned up (probably heading towards Green Gate).

Problem then - how to find the car in this field and how to find my wife. Solution, wave mobile phone light in air and shout out wife's name. After 2 shouts only, can you believe it, wife who had been lost for nearly a hour, stood in front of us. "OMG, I'm so relieved!" she exclaimed. "This place is a nightmare." (Miracle number two).

As we stood dumbfounded in the middle of the field, a stewardess nonchalently strolled past and guess what - miracle number 3, she had a map! "You are in Red 1, you need to cross this field and the next 2, then one after that is Red 4." She pointed across the fields adding, "Jump through the hedges".

Not likely! We found a road and headed in what we thought was the correct direction, passing many others who had simply sat down in the hedgerows, obviously defeated and probably looking for taxis. Finally we reached a familiar field-Red 4 was a sight for sore eyes, if you could see anything at all, that is. A vast field of cars, groups of people searching, other groups shouting, some sounding horns - all hopelessly lost! "Right. Follow me" I ordered and set off up and down the rows of cars, trusted phone light and car key remote in hand. Half an hour later, miracle number 4 - we found it!

"What would we do without dad?" my daughter declared - triumph!

We left the field and almost fell onto the A1 (junction 44) and only 40 minutes later we were home. What a relief. A shower followed (at 3am).

Would I go back to Leeds Festival? YOU BET!

(Note to festival organisers - invest in some lighting and give your stewards maps!)