Notes From the Beer Festival

29 August, 2007 at 2:08 pm (Beer, Writing)

This is a collection of notes that we took in our more sober moments. Sadly the misspelling and the times of great laughter during writing can’t be expressed directly. All timings are approximate-ish. The bits in black are my additions as I type this up; the purple bits are my ramblings; and the orange bits are Moosh’s.

Friday Night:

I’m sticky and it’s only 7.27pm

It’s quite strong. Darwin’s Extinction Ale. We probably shouldn’t drink too much more of this. 8.3% 7.33pm

It doesn’t go down as easily as others.

It’s like a piece of fruitcake you really don’t want.

I smell grass and beer. Not the grass one smokes! Cigar too!

Surrounded by people standing! 20.21pm

Really needed that piss! So does Moosh right now.

Xylophone buggery – We Win. 00.44

“I wouldn’t be a tosspot if you fisted me more often.” 00.55

We still win xylophone buggery.

Moosh laughed until she cried. I just farted. Badly. It really fucking stank. She laughed some more. 1.28am

Saturday:

Tea. 7am. Followed by Mika.

Checking my sleeping bag for the wristband – I only managed to discover that it smelled of farts. Contained farts. We laughed at this. Alot. Again.

Saturday morning – lovely day. Damp. much farting all around.
I ache everywhere. And feel either sick or just hungry.

No, it’s hunger.

There was an overestimation of the amount of spillage with the Tesco breakfast. (with no fried eggs)

3-2 already. 9am

I *really* need to wash my windscreen.

We are faffing queens.

10.10 – I do not, nay, will not smoke any more fags!

11.30 – Pantyliner cache found.

The horse racing saga-serial continues.

12.00ish – I’m sure there’s an ant in my bum.

We then read out the previous writings. And laughed again at the amount of farting. It was good. 11.55am

12.08 – Harnessed beer farts to inflate the lilos would be nasty to deflate. Worse than contained beer farts in a sleeping bag!

1.22pm – Tom NOT the barman appears all in black.

“You have to suffer for your man love”

In a moment of brilliant timing, Moosh starts to say: “They just happen…” and then belches loudly. I find this amusing. so much so I can’t record it here. [in the notepad] She then joins in on the much mirth. Before long we are laughing ourselves silly and she says: “I can’t hold my sphincter!” More laughter.

4.15pm – In the George Inn

After some extremely hot cheesy chips and burp-inducing cider, it was decided to return to the RV to do some juggling. My audience of one is going to laugh and fart whilst this is going on.

[Except we never did do that. We tried to walk to a mates house, that she said was only 10 minutes walk. We walked for ten minutes and got nowhere near her house. This was sad, as we couldn’t then leave her a scribbled note through her door. Oh well. We didn’t get sunburnt thankfully,which was a strong possibility due to lack of lovely shade on many occasions. Nor were we run down thanks to speeding motorists.]

Sunday 

Some time in the morning [Sunday morning, very early, with me in the tent and Moosh nowhere to be seen. With someone *cough* (edited out, sorry) somewhere]
Overheard: “Oi! You there! You on the green! Please do not make love on the green!”

6.50am – A warmer and slightly less uncomfortable night marred by snoring and ‘other’ noises. Some people have carried on all night with their chat, laughter and music.

I appear to be a touch shaky. But warm, so far. And not in dire need of the loo. Unlike several other times overnight.

7.13am – Dew on tent = Tent Gravy.

And that is about all we recorded. We probably would have done more, if we were programmed to so do. But we’re crap like that.

Tags: Frocester+Beer+festival, farts, camping, sleeping+bags