Shellac of North America
Nov. 26th. Fly to London. Wander around. Check into the ever-lovely California Hotel, where I've stayed many times. Eat chips. Go to WH Smith.
Nov. 27th. All day in London. Pack in as much as I possibly can. I haven't been there since Ulv was a baby. Four years! I want to go everywhere.
Nov. 28th. Take the train from King's Cross, conveniently placed just down the road from the hotel, to get to Rye/Camber Sands early for check-in. Then All Tomorrow's Parties for three days, curated by Shellac. Staying in a chalet (sounds so sweet, looks a bit grubby but never mind) onsite. It will be like Roskilde without the fear of anyone peeing on my tent.
Dec.3rd. Train to Gatwick, changing trains in Brighton, so might spend a while there, rather than eight hours at the airport. Fly home.
I'll enjoy, enjoy, enjoy. At least I'll spend six months dreaming about how lovely it will be, and then hopefully nothing unexpected will happen so I can't go after all.
I'm going alone, but bringing (and most likely buying) books. When I went to Roskilde on my own, the British journalists living in the tent next to mine (two years in a row. How?) joked about me being at the Reading festival. Which was funny at the time, and still funny to me, as I am quite over-excited at the moment, so bear with me.
Have bought tickets. Spent so much money, part of me is screaming WHAT HAVE YOU DONE???
Nov. 27th. All day in London. Pack in as much as I possibly can. I haven't been there since Ulv was a baby. Four years! I want to go everywhere.
Nov. 28th. Take the train from King's Cross, conveniently placed just down the road from the hotel, to get to Rye/Camber Sands early for check-in. Then All Tomorrow's Parties for three days, curated by Shellac. Staying in a chalet (sounds so sweet, looks a bit grubby but never mind) onsite. It will be like Roskilde without the fear of anyone peeing on my tent.
Dec.3rd. Train to Gatwick, changing trains in Brighton, so might spend a while there, rather than eight hours at the airport. Fly home.
I'll enjoy, enjoy, enjoy. At least I'll spend six months dreaming about how lovely it will be, and then hopefully nothing unexpected will happen so I can't go after all.
I'm going alone, but bringing (and most likely buying) books. When I went to Roskilde on my own, the British journalists living in the tent next to mine (two years in a row. How?) joked about me being at the Reading festival. Which was funny at the time, and still funny to me, as I am quite over-excited at the moment, so bear with me.
Have bought tickets. Spent so much money, part of me is screaming WHAT HAVE YOU DONE???