V Festival 2005
Someday you will find me, Caught beneath the landslide
Zoë and I set off to Chelmsford, Essex early on the Saturday morning of the festival and arrived just in time for the music to begin. Saturday’s weather was as bright as a button and we were looking forward a day of music ahead.
We walked MILES to the murky outer camping area that was to be our home for the weekend. In place of hoped for celebrity neighbours, we had overgrown Aussie scouts who were already enjoying their renditions of Proclaimers classics.
With our wrist bands already cutting off the circulation to our hands, with our tent up and our first festival meal of dolmades, feta parcels and courgette bake suitably devoured (one mustn’t let one’s nutritional habits slip while festival-ing) – we made our way back again to the main festival site.
We settled in to enjoy the music and observe the different fashions. Confident in our own stylish choice of the oldest trainers, jeans and t-shirts that we owned – we felt dutifully licensed to comment (sometimes a bit too loudly) on other’s choices. Generally, most festival-ettes had gone down the practicality rather than fashion road this year. Maybe it was the muddy scenes of Glastonbury earlier in the year that had prompted all of those 40,000 girls to simultaneously decide to wear Wellington boots and cowboy hats! Despite ourselves not contributing to any fashion vibe, we were disappointed by the limited noteworthy offerings. The scary woman who tried to sell us some hash brownies was by far the most interesting person we encountered – not many people can claim to have six different species of rodent living in their hair.
That's not all we were encouraged to buy… A "shewee" is apparently a necessity for your 21st century modern gal festival goer. According to the accompanying pamphlet, the shewee is a portable urine device...well...erm...ok, picture a funnel and then use your imagination. We gals are told to "stand up and take control". Given the blossoming market for any festival related paraphernalia over the British summer (Wellington boots – I rest my case), I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before we see the shewee in a range of Pucci and Burberry prints. Check out the Shewee website: http://www.shewee.com/
The musical highlights of day one were definitely the Magic Numbers who had attracted a huge crowd. They were followed later in the day by the Kaiser Chiefs who persisted in reminding us that "we are the Kaiser Chiefs!!!" and trying to get the crowd to chant "Kaiser Chiefs, Kaiser Chiefs". Sigh! Boring, guys.
Day one finished with classic Oasis on the main stage. Liam Gallagher was in fine form – slating the Chemical Brothers, Pete Docherty and anybody who lives in Essex more generally (in particular Essex girls). Despite some chivalrous boos from the Essex boys, the crowd loved it. Liam didn’t show any appreciation for the adulation, but he wouldn’t be Liam Gallagher if he did.
By the time we finished our breakfast on day two (pain au chocolat and cappuccino), we staggered into the festival in time to catch Idlewild croak their way through their latest albums highlights and for Tony Christie ("who???" to anybody not currently living in the UK) to beg us to show him the way to Amarillo.
The afternoon was then spent sitting outside the furnace that was the JJB tent to hear (if not see) Goldfrapp, who were amazing. The festival then finished up with joint headliners Franz Ferdinand and the Scissor Sisters.
Franz Ferdinand got every bopping along to a load of familiar tracks and also played some newies. The Scissor Sisters were then predictably bright and camp, only compromised by unnecessary and prolonged sentiment from Anna Matronic (sp) regarding the recent London bombings. With that downbeat moment over, spirits were raised again at the end when the members of Franz Ferdinand joined the Sisters back on stage to finish things up.
Following that note of sisterhood and girl power, Zoë and I made our way over to the Channel 4 stage to hear the end of the Prodigy’s "smack my bitch up" – the irony not being wasted on us. On that rather poignant note, the uncharacteristically rain-free festival drew to a close and we (and some rather smelly scouts) made our way slowly back to London the following morning. My first experience of the V Festival and a resounding success. I’ll see you all there next year. You should recognise me – I’ll be the one with the Burberry shewee!
Rachael Addicott
