CLUB . . . your high NRG life mentor for a fitter happier you ( est. 2003 )

I went to that there London and collected my tickets for the gig and realised I had three hours to kill before I was allowed to check into my hotel rooms. So I went for a couple of pints in the Big Chill House and watched girls walk up and down the Pentonville Road. I quite rapidly felt a little bit drunken as I was merely topping up from the night beforehand.

Checked into my hotel. Got Tim's number and tried to ring him but got no answer, figured he was probably in the depths of the London Underground. Headed over to Finsbury and tried to ring Tim again with no luck. Walked around the corner and into a pub only to bump into Tim, Jo and Andy. Lucky.

We stood outside in the mass throng of people drinking cider. Jo said that she wanted to go inside the gates and watch bands but instead we went to the off licence and drank more cider around the front gate.

After an hour or so of hanging around the gate we all decided that we was bostin for the toilet and necessity meant that we would have to go inside the park.

The queue inside for the bogs was just stupid, I said fuck this I'm not waiting, I'll piss myself and walked around the queue and straight into toilet area to find around a hundred unused urinals, fuck knows why people were queuing.

Then to the bar to top our bellies up some more.

I bumped into Adam from work and announced to anyone who would listen that he was an undercover narco police officer who was out to steal there illegal substances. He ran off for some reason.

Roots Manuva came on and was good but I don't think the rock crowd really got it, he only played for about twenty five minutes before it was time to go back to the bar for more cider.

Gogol Bordello played some weird music were the band shouted "hey" an awful lot. More cider. Then I went to have another wee but this time up the fence wall. People were jumping climbing over the wall and falling over the other side head first into places where people had just urinated. Nice. I saw one young lady climb over, fall and then not move because she had injured her back and some kid fall smacking his head very hard onto the metal pole holding the fence up and then on the metal fence almost knocking himself out. Another kid jumped over straight into the hands of a security guard who punched him in the face, this didn't go down very well with the crowd who surrounded the guard and started pushing him and kicking him before more security arrived to drag him off.

After this I went the bar for even more cider and subsequently lost everyone. No worries, I headed towards the stage and found Tim and Jo but no Andy. Rage Agains the Machine started by playing that XFactor song and doing some skit where Simon Cowell got annoyed or something. They played some songs, there was some moshing, then they got some people on the stage with a big cheque, more songs more moshing, more cider, then it was all over. They were alright but they could have been anyone, more important was the drinking of beer in the sunshine and general silliness that comes with these big gigs.

Still no sign of Andy, we followed the crowd out of the festival and straight back to the pub. Andy turns up and starts arguing with Jo. Andy storms off. Andy comes back, Jo storms off. Andy storms off again and Jo comes back. All very silly. Eventually they both semi-calm down and we have more beer. Then we get kicked out of the pub. It is now one in the morning. Tim, Jo and Andy get a taxi to their hotel on the South Bank.

I consider getting a night bus but miss it by a couple of minutes. I start walking towards Kings Cross but after about ten minutes realise that I don't really know where I am going and flag down a cab. Good job really, even though I was going in the right direction I think I would have been walking for quite some time.