I Hear That You and Your Band

Like many British former sixteen-year-olds, I went straight from collecting my GCSE results to Reading Festival. The only drinks I brought were a ten-pack of Capri-Sun. We camped by the toilets. (You eventually stop noticing the smell.) I spent most of it on my own, wearing a hoodie in the summer—the goal being to sweat water out before I needed to pee, thereby retaining my spot close to the front. It worked for the full first day and most of the second, but just after Arctic Monkeys came on, when I was only a couple of rows from the barrier, my glasses got knocked off, and I experienced the rest of the set next to a distant ice cream van. I spent Sunday slightly wounded and poorly sighted.