The Golden Plains music festival this year was not just wet, it was saturated. It was soaking, dripping, sweating, slopping pouring from the heavens.
While I am willing to heed the tales of those who braved the great Meredith cyclone of 2008, I would like to stress that festivals in the rain are not that much fun, wind or no wind.
The Cruel Sea, Tame Impala and Pavement were great. Nashville Pussy were hilarious. Dirty Projectors were delightful. The rest of it I can either not recall or was not impressed with.
Mostly I will remember caving in to my inner child, who was cold, wet and hungry, and giving the Midnight Juggernauts a miss, trekking back to my tent in the darkness to pajamas and sleeping bag goodness.
Things I saw at Golden Plains include my friend Emily hitting a brightly coloured horse shape pinata strung to a tree with an old fashioned black umbrella, wearing a hot pink ball dress; my friend Kas dressed as a lime green dinosaur hugging a stuffed plush animal of the same colour someone handed him; naked men mud-wrestling in the amphitheatre; lots of blow up sex dolls and a inflatable jumping castle; a crowd surfing Israeli in his underpants performing for a crowd of thousands; Alice in Wonderland and painted face masks.
Here are some quotes to convey the stupidity of the weekend:
“Pavement is how I feel about you”
“You look like a Jesus jellyfish.”
“It’s okay, I used to be a panda.”
“You are a pack of cards” (response) “That is beautiful.”
I told a boy I was offered that I didn’t want him because he was too wet. Because, you know, there were some dry people at that festival.
There is a recording of some crazy hipsters at a campsite ranting about bullshit during Dinosaur Jnr- who are in real life a librarian, another journalist and myself – but I can’t figure out how to upload the sound file… so that will have to wait.