"NINE O'CLOCK check in boys, a few words for our adoring audience please." I brought my camcorder to bear on Joseph and Tim.
Joseph raised his arm in mock triumph. "It's nine o’clock, it's New Years Eve 1999, and it's fucking pissing down."
"Yeah boi!" Tim added climbing over Joseph all gleeful. We collapsed into hysterics. It couldn't be denied, it was fucking pissing down.
The rain had been bad throughout the day but ever since the night it had turned torrential. Where we sheltered, beyond the light of the food tent, a silvery curtain now cataracted into the earth.
And this the bigger problem, for the sheer amount of water that had fallen, combined with the poor drainage and the enthusiastic dancing of the thousands of Gatherers - those undaunted embracers of all eventualities - had turned many areas into muddy bogs, especially the Trance Zone.
In some places it was now calf deep and spreading, eating up the grass like erosion, like flesh eating bacteria.
A quagmire, actually, with most having given up the fight to stay clean, people sitting down to make mud castles or practice swan dives, even break-dance in it. And the water pooling, countless tents periscoping out of scummy ponds, and of course, the kicker, ever since the unseen sun had set, now bitterly cold.
This blog is a story. Each post picks up from the last.
If you are new, start at the bottom with post 1 and then work your way up.
* * * *
Enjoying what you're reading? Please take the time to follow the blog, like and comment.
Your support means a lot.
Also, sharing is caring.
* * * *