Nov 22, 2017 | By Catarina Lambranho
Aug 11, 2017
By Carla Buzasi
I had an early version of the Fitbit that is now a permanent feature on my left wrist, many years back, which just about tracked my steps, and erratically my sleep patterns, too. It was bright blue and I had to stop wearing it when George Osbourne – then Chancellor – started sporting an identical one to Prime Minister’s Questions.
By rights then, I can’t ever go to Wilderness Festival again. A fixture of my summers for the past five years, a place where the costumes are as outlandish as the landscape is beautiful, and the chefs are as famous as the singers on the main stage, I can get pretty evangelical about this festival. Except this year, David Cameron rocked up and suddenly the world’s chicest, prettiest weekender didn’t feel quite so cool. Still, he looked pretty glum in all the photos that rapidly made their way around the internet (who knows how, I had zero phone reception all weekend), so if the former PM wasn’t enjoying himself, then maybe I can justify going again next summer.
A friend who’d been strong-armed into coming along for the first time this year, spent most of the weekend wandering around, looking slightly shell-shocked, whispering over and over again, “It’s so middle-class”. She had a point. If even the average British festival has upgraded from cans of cider and not washing all weekend, to prosecco vans and hot showers, Wilderness takes it one step further. Petersham Nurseries hosts lunches and Laurent Perrier has its own Champagne tent, and that’s just for starters.
Still, it is a festival and before three nights in a camper van with three small children, one night of luxury at The Pig seemed like a good idea. A quick glance at Google Maps will avail you of the knowledge that The Pig hotel is no-where near Cornbury Park, where Wilderness is held, but as a general rule I need very few actual reasons to stay there, geography included. Besides, I don’t have a bath in my flat in London, and their baths are the best – possibly not the most economically prudent way to get clean, but given the subsequent three days involved showering in a field, albeit hot showering, I like to think it was justified.
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