The Tart does The Daisies (again)...

 

So this time last week, instead of gasping for a Savanna, I was actually drinking a gigantic one (love the new 500ml bottles) whilst attempting to pack for Rocking The Daisies (or RtD as it is affectionately known by hipsters and those of us too lazy to type out the whole thing). Needless to say there was more drinking than packing, so despite having the WHOLE day to get organised, I was late. Whilst Madcap Menno and Barmy Bernie are laid back folk, this had repercussions later…

RtD was epic. Really. It was. I know you are all sick to death of hearing about it, but I don’t care. You are only sick of hearing about it because you weren’t there.  Those of us who went have no problem talking about it still. And we will probably carry on raving about it until Synergy Live in November. Which also promises to be a legendary weekend. Awesome local bands already lined up and if the rumours of The Prodigy are true, all hell is going to break loose. I already have my ticket and I suggest you get yours too. So we can all rave about it and there’s no whining.

Where was I? Yes, last Friday. We arrived to a massive queue of cars on the only road leading into the festival grounds. They need to change that soon – 15 000 people trying to get in and then trying to leave on one dirt road is just silly. In fact they should install robots as well. Then we can all play “shots on green”, “run around car on red” and “hoot at orange”. Now that would be fun!  Anyhoo, I digress as usual …

To cut a long story short, we eventually parked and trekked all our stuff to the campsite. By “our” stuff I mean “my” stuff. I am not much good at festival packing so had a trillion bags and all my bedding in separate pieces. BB pointed out that all my bedding could go into my sleeping bag so I ended up looking like a dwarf version of Father Christmas with a sack full of duvets that was twice my height. We niftily found a spot right near the entrance and hastily set about getting our tents up. Then to fetch the remaining bits of my stuff , which resulted in us being late for one of BB’s favourite bands, The Sleepers. Not only had I arrived late causing us a delay in leaving Cape Town, I had caused even more of delay by having too much katoondu that required two trips to the car. Not cool! I have promised to buy a big bag and whatever doesn’t fit, doesn’t go. Thankfully they gave me their tent bag so at least I will have a tent at the next festival.

It was a quick gather of bags and money and then we were off to the main stage. The Sleepers were shocking as usual. Monster is not going to talk to me for a week, but really, this is the second time I have seen them at a festival and I still fail to be impressed.  I don’t know anything about music (“Clearly!” I can hear him muttering) but that lead singer acted like a complete twit. Be drunk, it’s a very rockstar thing to do, but don’t stand there flicking your hair and flapping your wrist. He looked like a gay head-banger in slow motion. I am obviously missing something. Like tequila. Which incidentally run out. Yes folks, no tequila anywhere (Bubblegum Tequila doesn’t count).  This was a more shocking situation than The Sleepers. I was assured by a pimply young lad that they would be getting “supplies” out of the truck that evening. Well I am not sure if he was talking about the tequila supplies or other supplies, but there was no tequila to be found, whilst the MDMA tent (“the one with flowers”) had no problem with supplies – apparently. Not that this is a bad thing, just saying that running out of tequila on a Friday night at a festival is just not cool. So we drank Jagermeister instead - I found 10 empty Jagermeister-emblazoned shot glasses in my tent on Sunday when packing up to leave.

Friday night was fairly uneventful. And cold. Freezing in fact. I spent most of the night on a couch under a blanket in the BAT tent watching the bands from a lofty perch. I had a first-class view and wasn’t going to leave my spot for anything. Not even Grandmaster Whoever that got my crew running off to the Red Bull Electro Tent faster than you can say “turntable”. Turns out Mr Itchy and Scratchy (as I liked to call him) sounded like Tin Roof on a Friday night. Check how hip and happening Clarement is eh?! I in the meanwhile perved over the lead singer from The Kongos and kept warm. Things changed when Beast came on though. Wow! The “chucky” side of Inge came out to play and she rocked the crap out of that stage. So much so that I was forced to remove the blanket and my arse off the couch and get involved. By far the best band of the day (if not the entire festival) and have made a note to go to more of their gigs. Ahem, they are playing at Synergy Live… that makes it worth going all on its own.

Saturday morning started with papsak vodka and orange – breakfast of festival champions.  And the discovery that MM had got so hammered that he pee’d in the tent – on their clothes and his shoes. Best part – him wondering why his shoes were wet and being reminded why! The whole day was spent by the main stage watching the likes of Arno Carstens, Rudimentals, The Mystics and various others that I can't remember. While drinking papsak vodka and orange, Savanna, Red Bull and Jagermeister. And scoffing a giant hotdog with butternut and bacon called “The Big Oink” (I realized on Sunday that it was the only thing I ate all day). That and few other things along the way would explain how things got more interesting when nightfall arrived.

Suffice to say that I thought a yellow clown afro (won at the Savanna tent) and white sunglasses made perfect festival attire and I spent the night barely being able to see a thing, but happy in the knowledge that everyone could see me. I was determined to see Bloc Party though and managed the incredible feat of getting right to the front from the back. Stumbling your way through 12 000 odd people (the other 3 000 may or may not have been there) and losing a piece of your front tooth to see a band you hardly know makes for a good story to tell your grandchildren. I may even tell those grandchildren that I ended up in the Electro Tent and stayed there, dancing in the mud, until 6am when we were kicked out.  And then proceeded to dance in the empty field opposite the food stalls with about 5 other “like-minded” people, before skipping  (literally) off to my tent. Thankfully the chance of me having any grandchildren is practically nil.

We went home on Sunday. BB and MM left their tent behind (thus my scoring the tent bag) as MM had ripped it open when he failed to manage unzipping it. I had a cloud obsession and had had no sleep. I also terrorized the girls in the Daisy Den and fell into the shower. It was definitely time to go.

It took me two days to recover. My “Lenny Kravitz” leggings will need to be washed three times to get the mud out of them. The chipped tooth cost me R250 to repair.  Party Partner is still not speaking to me for apparently "spiking his drink" and causing him to have a most unpleasant Sunday and Monday and Tuesday (in fact he took the week off). And there are photos of me with people I don’t even know. 

The best part … only seven weeks until Synergy Live. That was only the warm-up and this time there WILL be tequila. See YOU there!

Overheard at RtD:

“I promise not to puke or wee. I just want to sleep in there.”

“What’s her number?”
“I can’t remember.”

“She’s your girlfriend dude!”

“It’s 082…. Oh let’s just go get a beer.”

“You don’t understand. I just want to be friends.”
“OK, I can do that.”

“Great!”
“Is that friends with benefits?”
“No.”

“Good morning!”

“Good morning.”

“How are you?”

“Fucked.”

“Why are my takkies wet?`”

“Because you pee’d on them.”

“Oh good, Comparel. Just what I need. Now I need a vodka to wash them down.”

“I was planning a copper bombing. But realized it was useless as I wouldn’t be able to see the fear in their tiny little eyes.” - how liquid shrooms turn you into a festival terrorist.