ONE LOVE '08
So now there's a five dollar cover charge. Ok, I can deal with that, but no BYO? Seven bucks a beer? Twenty five fucking bucks for a tray of four?
Och aye the noo.
Still, twas a nice day for it and the velodrome makes for a good venue so myself and lay-dee ventured up over the hill. It's a nice walk. We even forked out for beers. Despite the aforementioned highway robbery occuring in the beer tent, it was good to see so many people enjoying themselves in the sun whilst us two freckly palefaces hid under a tarpaulin lest we shrivel like snails in salt. I do try to expand my horizons occasionally, so a reggae gig or something else is always a welcome change from the usual shows I go to. There's more to life than stuff that sounds like a lawnmower with cookie monster being angry over it.
Seriously, I was listening to Insect Warfare the other day and it sounded, especially after a few spots, like Cookie Monster had arrived home to find all his cookies stolen and was now a ball of absolute fury.
The food was also excellent at One Love this year. I ate way too much. I started with a home made burger. Fuckin' choice. They actually used a home-made patty for one, instead of some unspeakable abomination from the deep freeze at the supermarket. Then I had a bowl of calamari from the Skopa stall. Good to have actual squid rather than a fish finger squashed into a ring shape. Take that Admiral Ackbar. You bet your fishy arse there's something wrong. I'm eating you, that's what. I also sampled some of the lay-dee's fried plantain (kind of a savoury banana that tastes more like a spud, for those not enlightened) and stuffed myself with crackers.
Whilst stuffing myself with crackers I was passed a number by a gent in front of our tarp. I happened to notice at this time that he and his buddies had managed to cunningly sneak their own booze in. They'd not even done a total secret squirrel job of it either.
Arse biscuits, said I, having just blown about forty bucks. I get very Scottish over such things.
Here's a pic of us hiding from the solar radiation.
Och aye the noo.
Still, twas a nice day for it and the velodrome makes for a good venue so myself and lay-dee ventured up over the hill. It's a nice walk. We even forked out for beers. Despite the aforementioned highway robbery occuring in the beer tent, it was good to see so many people enjoying themselves in the sun whilst us two freckly palefaces hid under a tarpaulin lest we shrivel like snails in salt. I do try to expand my horizons occasionally, so a reggae gig or something else is always a welcome change from the usual shows I go to. There's more to life than stuff that sounds like a lawnmower with cookie monster being angry over it.
Seriously, I was listening to Insect Warfare the other day and it sounded, especially after a few spots, like Cookie Monster had arrived home to find all his cookies stolen and was now a ball of absolute fury.
The food was also excellent at One Love this year. I ate way too much. I started with a home made burger. Fuckin' choice. They actually used a home-made patty for one, instead of some unspeakable abomination from the deep freeze at the supermarket. Then I had a bowl of calamari from the Skopa stall. Good to have actual squid rather than a fish finger squashed into a ring shape. Take that Admiral Ackbar. You bet your fishy arse there's something wrong. I'm eating you, that's what. I also sampled some of the lay-dee's fried plantain (kind of a savoury banana that tastes more like a spud, for those not enlightened) and stuffed myself with crackers.
Whilst stuffing myself with crackers I was passed a number by a gent in front of our tarp. I happened to notice at this time that he and his buddies had managed to cunningly sneak their own booze in. They'd not even done a total secret squirrel job of it either.
Arse biscuits, said I, having just blown about forty bucks. I get very Scottish over such things.
Here's a pic of us hiding from the solar radiation.