I just love watching grown men eating bananas
So, I'm back and I'm battered. I came home from Roskilde this afternoon and I can honestly say that I can't remember ever feeling this wrecked. There is not one part of my body that doesn't hurt, I've got bruises all over and if my nipples can just go back to semi-normal after being frozen into ice cubes for 8 days, I'll be in awe.
As you might know, it wasn't my first Roskilde. I was there for the first time in 1997 and then continuously until 2003 where I, to my great regret, took a break. However, I don't remember it being entirely as draining as this year.
Maybe it was the tons of mud, maybe it was the guy drunkenly crashing down on (not in) my tent and my head at 5 o'clock in the morning, maybe it was the guy running around at the fences thrusting a giant strap-on in other guys' faces going "Can you match this? Can you match this?! Huh? Huh? Huh?!".
Maybe it was me fainting in the queue for Morrissey, maybe it was the girl who pissed right next to my tent, maybe it was a cold and a sunburn at the same time.
Maybe it was clapping too hard at Muse's fantastic show, maybe it was the fact that I was pissing off pretty much everyone I know, maybe it was the beer or the Bailey's or the champagne. Or maybe, I'm just feeling old at twenty-one and never thought that day would come. In any case, I'm suffering from hardcore post-festival melancholy and the fact that I'm working tomorrow doesn't get me any farther from being on the edge of crying.
It was also quite a nice festival, especially music-wise, though, and when I pull myself together, maybe I can tell you exactly why.