INTRODUCTION

A few months back, while busy at work I received a text message from my mate Mark.

"DUDE YOU HAVE TO CUM 2 READING IT WILL BE GOOD"

I found out that the three day event would cost just over a hundred quid and would require a tent for the campsite, so i figured what the hell and asked Mark to score me a ticket.

So on Thursday the 26th August 2004 I found myself packing in anticipation of lots of music and a chance to do some healthy male bonding. Richie told me to pack the following things which were essential to my wellbeing:

• A tent with tarpaulin flooring, to help protect myself from the elements
• A sleeping bag, or "mummy"-style sleeping bag able to withstand 5°C temperature
• A waterproofed sleeping mat, to help balance out the ground.
• A raincoat, as the weather was predicted to be wet on the first night
• A thick jumper to keep myself warm during the night.
• Several sets of clothing
• Wellington Boots, as there was bound to be thick mud. Otherwise, hiking boots would be acceptable.
• Tinned food, which would keep easily and could be cooked over a fire.
• Toiletries, such as toothpaste, razor blades, etc.
• Toilet paper
• Money

I laughed heartily at the list. My two-month tenure at the Beavers when i was child, coupled with my experience of the "great outdoors" while camping at Andover Down gave me ample experience to brave the elements without all these fancy creature comforts. Instead, i packed the following items which were deemed neccessary for a good time:

• My thornproof tweeds
• Two cummerbunds
• A pair of underpants
• A badgerfur shaving brush
• A pound of fortified stilton
• A bottle of 1986 port
• A single-prong fold-out canvas stool
• A tin of gentlemens relish
• A compass made entirely out of cork, saltpeter and mercury
• Currency for each of the countries of the Commonwealth.
• A pair of binoculours, with complementary copy of "Birds of the Thames Valley"

Admitely, Richard was correct about the tent. As i left for Camden station, the rain fell with such ferocity that it could have quenched the fires of Beelzebub. I decided discretion was the better part of the valour and forked out for the cheapest ten available in Argos. Predictably, they were all sold out and so i had to take a brief but lively detour to Wood Green (a 40 minute bus journey) for the last available one in stock.

I hopped onto the train at Paddington and within half an hour i arrived at Reading. Richie was there waiting to whisk me into great plains of Reading for a weekend of hedonism and corporate music.