Get off my land!

Written in 2016

I am still angry. It's been over a month and I am still very angry. Why you ask.  Well after I tell you, I fully expect to get virtually lynched for daring to go against the general opinion on how wonderful the event is and that I must be wrong/making it up/out to get money.  I'm not wrong, I'm not making it up and I am owed money!

Farmer Phil's festival is considered as one of the best festies to go to, amongst my musical friends. I had spent all summer working my butt off at other events and decided that Farmer Phil's was the place I needed to be to chill out and let my hair down.  So Friday after work, I came home, got ready and headed out from York (area) to Shrewsbury.  The journey was easy going and I had great tunes playing. I was so hyped up for this weekend of fun with my friends, especially as I hadn't told them I was going.

I arrive at the farm entrance and think 'oh my god, I'm glad I'm not pulling a trailer up this road' there's a huge dip off the main road and I reckon a few traders had problems. But I wasn't trading, I was there for fun.  I drive up to the very nice marshals and they tell me to park on the right so I can get my ticket. I was then sent to pitch up on the fields to the left.  I drove through the gate, which was lined with rocks (to prevent people getting stuck in the mud), around the field - nope, no spaces. To the next field. Big dips, bigger rocks and bigger ruts to navigate. I managed it at a careful pace around field two. Nope, no spaces. To field three, massive dips and rocks in the gateway, I'd go as far as saying that some of those were boulders.  I steer carefully to the left around the worse of it and travel down the field. Deeply rutted and not so easy to get the car to navigate, I chose the spot near the tree.  It was nearly dark, I then battled to put the tent up in the wind.  I tried to text my son to say I'd arrived safely and no luck there, the whole area is a signal deadspot (except Beth's phone for some reason lol).  I got changed and headed up to the arena.

At this point I should really mention that I have chronic arthritis in my knees and my back is fairy fubar'd.  I don't let this stop me though and have worked in my food van at festivals and events.  These comprise of standing up for 12-18 hour days, having 4-5 hours sleep and then doing it all again the next two days.  Sure I get tired and I suffer afterwards but I can still manage as long as there's a co-codamol.  It's dark, I can't see where I'm going, there's no lights but my mobile phone torch.  I get to the first gate, legs are aching. I carefully avoid the big ruts hidden in the grass, nearly turning my ankle a few times. I face the boulders and navigate them. I find a least bothersome path and walk along the path through the next field.  Next gate, not as bad but still hard work trying to walk on it without turning my ankle and falling over.  Along the field path to the next gate and smaller rocks.  I stop knackered at the bottom of the hill.  Shit! That's a climb.  I take a slow but steady walk up the hill.  Legs are killing me, nothing to grab on to so I keep going.  Aha! Security guys and a security fence to lean on.  Have a chat with them while I recover and then head off in to the arena.

It's all new to me. I've never been here before. I'm looking for familiar faces. I find them in the Cheezy Vinyl bar - I love that place, it's so cool in there.  There I stay, sipping port, eating cheese and singing along with Brian Stone until about 2am.  We all head back down to the campsite and it's a repeat battle through the first two fields.  I watched the meteor showers with Brian and then after an hour, we both headed to our own beds.  That star gazing was the highlight of my weekend by the way. Standing under the stars, feeling so small and in awe of the vastness of space above us as bits of it fall on Earth... mind blowing stuff and very cool.  I managed to get back to my tent without falling in a hole and got into bed. Boy did the wind howl that night, glad I'd used extra tent pegs.

Saturday morning.  I wanted to get up early enough to catch Brian and Doozer on stage, as I was doing photos.  I got dressed, put all the stuff in my bag that I needed too and headed up.  In daylight it was only slightly less dangerous.  People were carrying their kids and buggies over the gateway obstabacle course, they didn't seem to fussed by it to be fair, they seemed to be used to it. I wasn't. I was in pain.  I saw Kate who said her wheelchair battery had run out from the steep climb up the hills. I saw a guy with no legs below the knees, walking along with crutches. I wish I didn't have knees at that point, he seemed to be doing better than me!

So you get the idea, I was tired, in pain and not having fun because pain kinda blocks that.  BUT I park my butt in front of the main stage with my mates and watched some great bands.  I appreciated the good sound quality and good stage management. I watched everyone around me laughing, drinking and having fun.  It wasn't a very big area but that made it more personal.  I had a little explore around the arena and found the Cantinas food place.  Great food! I love the fact they had all that variety and it was all good quality stuff. Those things are very important to me, and it's the business model I follow for my own catering business.  I was conned into buying ickle Pixie child a replacement lolly and we meandered up the slope, pass by the fantastic rhino sculpture, worked our way through the circus area with kids having a great time on unicycles and the performers showing them how to do neat tricks, to the sweetie van.  That was great, I thoroughly enjoyed that area, wish I'd seen more of the arena.   I watch some more music and it starts getting chilly, I'm wearing shorts.  I walk back down to the campsite with some friends, stopping at theirs in the first field (the nice flattish one with no rocks in lol), have dinner there and then head to my tent so I could get changed.  Well that was the plan. By the time I got to my tent, my legs were ready to give way, I was in a lot of pain and in tears. I have a high pain threshold and I'm not a weepy kinda girl.  I sat on my bed to rest, it was about 8pm, I could hear Gaz Brookfield wrapping up his set.  Next thing i know, it's midnight and Dreadzone were on.  I lay there, pissed off, still in pain and didn't see the point in getting up when it had all effectively finished. All my friends would have been well lubricated by that point and it's not like I could call any of them as there was no signal.  I thought about Sunday, repeating the same journey and knew I couldn't.  I thought about missing Ferocious Dog, a band where you will find me in the mosh pit.  There was no prospect of that happening. I fought the urge to go home there and then.  I convinced myself to sleep on it.

I woke up at 7am, my back was killing me.  I knew the disabled and normal loos were at the top of the field and I knew that they were utterly disgusting.  Did I also mention I have IBS?  This was not fun. I was pain, I was fuming and I was packed up and gone by 7.30am on Sunday morning.  Driving out of the field was a nightmare. One of your marshals dropped off a drunk woman near my tent as I got in my car, they were on a ATV and they struggled over that gate/field.  As I wasn't driving the same path as I came in, there was a huge dip and boulder in my path, so I had to 3 point turn the car around and head out of the gate, like I had coming in.  Crunch, ground, crunch, swear, fume, crunch.  Did I mention I had just spent a lot of money that week fixing my car?  Next gate, not as bad but still awful, next gate and I said bye to the marshal and got out of there.  That dip by the top... how the hell do you lot do that onto a main road with fuck all visibility?

Now I accept it's a working farm. It's not going to be perfect. I accept it's beautiful countryside and great music.  I accept there were problems with the people who were supposed to be maintaining the loos. But I do not accept that you did a proper risk assessment. I do no accept that there were fucking boulder and brick sized rocks in the gateways. I do not accept the lack of lighting to help people not hurt themselves over these dangerous areas.  I do not accept my car being damaged because of your slack attitude to customer safety. I do not accept that your risk assessments covered those points I've made and if they did, I'd like to see a copy of that!  There are no warning signs, there are no declarations about not being liable for damages.  Deerstock and Wistful, both working farms - not dangerous.  I've organised biker rallies, I know about risks and reducing them and having public liability insurance to cover your arse if anything goes wrong.

Nearly 20 years that festival has been going?  No hand wash or sanitiser in the toilets in the arena. No towel or dryer. There was an old abandoned birds nest in one towel dispenser!  There were no bins in or near the toilets, so people were throwing their used tissues (for drying their hands) in the sinks, on the floor.  The only bins I saw were the big recycling crates (kudos for that).  You can't blame a company letting you down on that, that's down to the committee to sort out the moment it becomes a problem. I was told by several people that if the environmental health had turned up on Thursday night, you'd have been shut down as there was no running water for the loo's etc etc.

I'm fairly sure that large ponds shouldn't be blue - that kinda suggest it's blue algae which is highly toxic to people and dogs swimming in it.  There were so many little things, that a well established festival crew should have nailed down to perfection.  I was told that Chris twisted/broke his ankle there last year and so did Farmer Phil... you tell me that isn't true and that Phil just twisted his ankle after falling on wet grass.  Like that makes it all ok.  Those little things ruined my weekend.

I drove home with my car clonking over every small bump in the road. I had anxiety attacks most of the way home. I will spare describing what those were like, not had them that bad for a very very long time.  I missed seeing my friends, my fav bands and to top it all off, when I went back to my mechanic on Monday, I'm told that my suspension coil has snapped in two. Oh and if that had popped off when I was driving home, I'd be dead!

I waited ages before I messaged your admin team. I waited to calm down. I was first met with concern and sympathy. Then the replies got decidedly curt.  I only asked for your insurance company details so I could put a claim in for damages to my car.  No company name, just a contact name and a phone number.  He was rather curt too, I already know that putting this claim in will be an epic pain in the arse.  What is worse, is being made to feel like I'm not allowed to complain about the festival, especially as so many enjoyed it, and so they should, it looked awesome. BUT not for me and I know I'm not alone in overcoming these difficulties.  I do not want money for personal injury, I want the money I spent fixing my car, that your festival and lack of care, caused, it's only about £150-£200, it's not like I'm trying to rob you.  Such small things to get wrong, with such massive impact on people like me.  I won't be going back. I know a few others who won't. I know many will because they love the atmosphere and revelling with their friends.  I think most of them would have a good time regardless of where they were lol.

Rubble = size of your hand.  Rocks = brick size(ish).  Boulders = a foot across!

Stories held hostage

This week I was listening to Rabbi Julia Neuberger give a short sermon on Pause for thought, a long running albeit short segment, on the BBC Radio 2 breakfast show.  In this particular Thought, she discussed about the new Holocaust stories, that are still emerging, after all this time. People, she said, didn't want to die with their stories trapped inside them, and even in their 90's, were sharing them for the first time.  'No one should face their death with your story untold and your music inside you'.  'Don't die with your music still inside you.'  This sentence really resonated with me! Julia said that we all have stories to tell, whether extreme or seemingly ordinary - all are valid and important.

I have always said that music is the food for your soul.  Our stories are the lyrics of how our lives are too.  Us humans are social creatures, we need companionship, we need to speak to others about our day and to say the words in our head out loud for SOMEONE to hear, to listen, to interact and respond.  Perhaps that is why loneliness is so utterly soul destroying.  Isolation, no one to talk to, no one to listen to you, no one to care for, no one to care for you, time to turn inwards and self destruct, talking to yourself, rambling on to anyone you meet (and watching the alarm that causes) and finally feeling like you are invisible and that the world has forgotten about you.  Sure there's social media but seeing your friends posting pictures and live videos of them having a good time without you, triggers so many negative emotions. You become hopeful when they all share the 'look out for lonely friends and reach out to them' posts... but no one does. You aren't included. You have to suck it up and get on with it. Smile and pretend it's not hurting you.

I love cooking for people. I love to eat food with people. When you eat alone, you're just fuelling your body or feeding your woes. When you eat with others, you interact with people, you take your time eating, you savour the food and you enjoy it.  Eating alone sucks. You end up not cooking yourself anything because it's just you. So it's bowls of cereal instead of proper meals, weight gain because depression suppresses your appetite and your body starves for calories, fluids and the company of someone, ANYONE to remind you that you are part of the human race.  Lonely people are slowly dying inside. Everyone can see it, few realise their company can cure it.

These last 2 years have seen a lot of friends mainly leave my life. You can't help but wonder why. What is it about you that makes you so easy to discard, when previously you were valued? This applies to exes too! I had such a close knit group of friends, not even that long ago. Life takes us all off in different directions, friends come and go... but so many went around the same time.  It really hurt me.  I blame myself but then I get angry at that because I didn't do anything wrong for them to do that. The really painful bit is the realisation that they had so little respect for you, such low worth of your friendship, that they could just go from your life without even an argument or real reason.  How does it go from one extreme to another, so quickly?  These are the questions that tear me up inside. Of course, I'm far too tough to admit it and I don't want to draw attention to the fact that I'm vulnerable.  I am. Sure, I've made mistakes but ultimately, I was more a friend to them, than they were to me. I hate saying that.

My story comprises mostly of pain. If I was a book character, I'd like to be Elizabeth Bennett, she's fiesty, intelligent and astute!  Did you know that I've written a book?  A collection of poems, musings, blogs and photographs I've penned since I was 13. Blimey, that was a decade ago!  Book 2 would look like what? Not very interesting I think.  My stories are stuff of horror.  I really shouldn't be here to type this.  I can't seem to remember my other stories, ones that aren't written in pain and injustice, they've been blocked out by the bad. Normal memories are gone, bad ones remain.  Laughter chases them away, loneliness brings them back and amplifies them.  I don't want to die with my stories trapped inside of me, not these stories anyway.  I want some normal tales to tell. Normal for me shouldn't be what my life has been so far.  I've had counselling in the past. I am a survivor. I've overcome. Call me a victim and I'll get really angry, really fucking quickly.  Back in 2001, I went through more traumatic incidents in 6 months, than most people face in a life time. I wouldn't wish any of that on anyone.  Counselling helped to a degree but I just can't get past it, it's still consumes me and affects my life still.  When bad things happen to you, you've lost control of your narrative, so then develop a defensive mechanism to regain control, usually it's really unhealthy.  The more I look into it, the more I realise I have PTSD.  It is my intention to ask my GP to refer me for more therapy but specialised.  I don't have control, I am controlled by past trauma, which triggers panic attacks etc.

The tops of my socks have been pulled off.  Sucking it up didn't work.  I am broken.  I need my friends to be my friends. I don't mind the solitude but I can't survive this loneliness.  I don't want your pity.  This isn't a poor me post.  I was there for many when their worlds crumbled around them. I was there to pick them up, dust them off and build them back up.  Everyone has their own lives to live, I understand that. Stop being so fucking selfish!  People kill themselves and then we say 'oh, why didn't they say anything?' they did. you weren't paying attention. Does it make you feel uncomfortable? Good. Sharing 'reach out' posts on Facebook means fuck all if you don't walk your talk.  Did you know I created a secret group for some friends who feel they can't share their down time with their FB friends?  Cries for help get ignored. It's 'drama'. It's attention seeking. It's well outside your comfort zone and you'd rather click like on cat pictures, than reach out to a friend in crisis.   No one says you have to rescue us but what you can't do, is PRETEND to give a shit, tell people you're there for them and 'you're always listening', and then IGNORE those who are trying to reach out.  My group exists because of people like that.  You aren't a good person for sharing that meaningless shit, it's purely YOU seeking attention, wanting approval for being someone you're not. For example: I share that I'm feeling down, I get 2 comments and 7 likes. I share some silly video or funny meme and I get 20+ comments and nearly 100 likes!  That's disgraceful!

I don't want this to be the only story I have to tell but it's the one I'm living in right now.  If you don't bother with me and then ask me how I am, I'm going to blurt out how I feel because it's been building up, ready to burst. I have other things to say but when you're not around, you won't hear the good stuff. My group do! If you aren't there for me when I am down, then you don't deserve to be my friend when it's going well.

The music inside me is beautiful. That is the story I want to tell.