There’s nothing quite like the fevered build up to the Electric Picnic. In amongst the hedonistic daydreams of dancing all day long in a field with flowers in your hair with an almost mystical ability to never get completely pissed on a diet of mainly pints of Heineken are the tempered practical and fear inducing thoughts such as “will it rain”, “will I discover a puncture in the inflatable mattress” and “what if all my beer smuggling techniques fail?”.
Despite all of this, when the day finally arrives and you are bombing it up the M8 to Co Laois, boogying in your seat to you specially selected “Festival Playlist”, literally nothing else bothers you except how quickly you can get there, get the tent pitched and crack open that first tinny to the massive bass rumblings of Trenchtown in the distance. You have arrived. Shaken off the shackles of the humdrum mundanity of the nine-to-five and for four sweet days you will be a different version of you whilst hanging out with your newly made Festival Friends.