Poshtivals

I feel like we don't talk anymore. We seem to have forgotten how to communicate, drifted apart, we just don't seem to bother. Well I'm still in it for the long run, I'm going to start trying again, making an effort, I'm sorry, I really am. I've missed you.

Anyway, where was I.

Apparently I was at a 'festival' on Friday night. I thought I was just going to see Mark Ronson, but no, it was a 'festival' and Mark Ronson was the 'main act'.

It was down in Wiltshire at a beautiful place called Bowood House. I used to go there as a kiddy as I had an ace adventure playground.

Anyway, yes, Mark Ronson. This 'festival' was brilliant as there only seemed to be about 63 people there, and of that 63, 62 of them where incredibly middle classed. I am upper class you see. It was all D&G Wellingtons and foldout seats, brilliant it was.

I am going to put a call out for more festivals like this. People ruin festivals, not bad weather or The Corrs.

And by the way, Mark Ronson wasn't very good; where as Calvin Harris (after an initial berating) was super.

Hip horary to middle class festivals with very few people.

P.S I am writing this on the train on the way to work and the women opposite is reading the paper. As she is turning the pages, and reading the headlines she is muttering things like 'oh dear' 'oh god'. I don't think she is going to have a good day.

P.P.S Don't worry, all ok, the women just laughed. Thank heavens, she'll be alright.