I am packing to go and spend a weekend in the north, listening to rock music at the Leeds Festival. This morning I slept in and revelled in my Barings-free lifestyle. Until the phone rang at 10.30 with a question about something they couldn’t do without asking for my help. Ha ha ha.
So I am gladly putting my vest tops and waterproofs, my flashing ring and my sunglasses, and my assortment of wipes for every part of the body into my battered old rucksack (bought to go interrailing with in 1993), and heading off. I will be back to bemoan the state of modern indie rock, enthuse about the Pixies, and wonder at the cacophony of Marilyn Manson early next week.
Wish me dry.