Contrary to the rather misleading title, this post is not about a personal disaster resulting in “hitting rock bottom” – it’s about the local summer music festival we attended yesterday evening.
It was a fitting way to end a ridiculous day really – I spent the morning combating the jungle at the end of the garden once more, before heading out to a picnic at our youngest’s school, before racing back, re-packing the leftovers of the food, and heading off on foot for the next village.
I love music – or what I would call “real music” – people performing live on stage. Not the over-produced rubbish that tends to fill the charts – the raw, spontaneous performances that happen in front of crowds. I guess that’s why I fell in love with the TV show “Roadies” last month – it’s about loving the experience of listening to talented musicians – not about the finished, polished, marketed article.
After drinking ever so slightly more alcohol than I might normally in the early evening, I thought it best to find something to eat – so wandered over to the array of stalls surrounding the field. After not too much searching I found an amazing Thai place making massaman curry, and doing a roaring trade. Two of our children copied me as soon as they saw what I had.
As darkness fell, the headline act for the evening took to the stage – an OASIS tribute band. I raced down to the front with our eldest daughter, who also seems to have bitten the live music bug, and we listened/danced/laughed our way through a huge chunk of the OASIS back catalogue. We wandered back with ears ringing, and huge smiles.
I think we finally reached home at about 11:30pm. For the first time in living memory the children all went to bed without complaint, and slept. When I got up at 8:30 this morning they were still all fast asleep. Our youngest arrived downstairs mid-morning with quite the most impressive explosive bed-head hair-style I have ever seen.
I think somehow today will be a quiet day.