Three of us in a two child tent acquired by sending 12 tokens to Weetabix. Equipped with Pot Noodles and not much else.
Befriended by some scary hairy bikers as we had a can opener. Exiled from my own tent due to Pot Noodle farts.
The Ramones cancelled, The Police went de-do-da-do for hours and everybody sang "John Peel's a C*nt'. Bottles of piss chucked at The Cure.
We decided to leave early to 'miss the traffic'. Good idea, but we were hitching. 24 hours later we reached home. Happy, happy days.

We camped, as we always do, in the field next to the cinema field, and as was well with the world. That was until some rather unadvisable pursuits on the saturday, which began in dancing manically at the front for Beverley Knight (no less!) in a vain attempt to get on tv. The day culminated in a freakout in the middle of The Stereophonics and a hasty retreat back to the tents.

All was beginning to be right with the world until the late film started. I spent the scariest night ever listening to hoards of elves and goblins trying to storm my field, as Lord Of The Rings played very loudly indeed.

My favourite moment was at one of the free Heineken Festivals which used to be held in Roundhay Park, Leeds, in the early nineties. I remember watching headliners Shane Macowan and The Popes. Shane was naturally well oiled and so his band-they looked totally wasted! Bottles were whizzing above my head and flying onto the stage at a rate of knots. I think one hit the drummer's head! Kirsty Maccoll came up on stage to join Shane for Fairytale Of New York.It was weird to hear it being played in the summertime but it kind of worked. Shane kept mumbling, "Where's Kirsty, Where's Kirsty" throughout most of it and I don't think he managed to sing one verse correctly. Hilarious, we need more of this kind of behaviour on stage.

V 97: Unwisely mixing several one-litre cans of Viking lager with a Mr Whippy; I asked my friend to grab my beer because I was feeling a bit queasy, and promptly threw up into his outstretched hands...

Glastonbury 98: The moment I realised 'hey, it's only a bit of mud' - shortly after which we abandoned the tent and I just wore bin liners for the next 2 days.

Glasto 2003: Lying in the sun in front of the Pyramid Stage, listening to Jimmy Cliff, with several pints of hot cider lined up next to us.

And Green Man 2007: Joanna Newsom's voice and harp drifting out over a hushed Welsh valley - one of the loveliest sets I've ever witnessed.

Reading 1994

Sunday is metal day on the main stage. As the crowds begin to thicken, I watch with bemusement as a well-dressed, middle-aged couple, who look like they took a wrong turn on the way to the Henley Regatta, set up a pair of deckchairs and then proceed to spread-out the contents of a picnic hamper on what remains of the grass.

Senser (a poor man's Rage Against The Machine, who will later morph into Lodestar - a poor man's Tool) come on and play either Age Of Panic or No Comply - one of their more well known songs. People begin to jump up and down and lurch into one another. In the melee the contents of the hamper are inadvertently kicked or trodden on. The horrified middle-Englanders make a frantic bid to gather what they can of their scattered possessions and then run for their lives, as if they are fleeing a tsunami or a hurricane.

Reading 1997

Mogwai are playing on the second stage. At the end of their set the drummer stands up and hurls one of his sticks into the audience. Everyone in front of me dives down after it and there is an undignified scuffle. I consider myself above all this and so remain standing.

A second drumstick comes flying out from the back of the stage and hits me with great force in the mouth. At the precise moment of impact my eyes meet with those of a security guard who is standing behind the crash barrier. He visibly flinches. Not wishing to appear weak, I spit out a mouthful of blood and probe around with my tongue for loose teeth. Fortunately they are all still intact, though I do spend the next couple of days with a massively swollen top lip.

was really good.

Deep Purple, Knebworth 1985.

Saw a drunken longhair swigging from a 2 litre bottle of Strongbow topple into a cess pit. He asked for help to get out, none was forthcoming. Later in the day I watched from afar as the crowd kept parting to let someone get through. It was our man, still rockin'.

Fraser,

I think you're rasta from Reading had moved to Glastonbury by the early ninties. His "little poem" had changed to "soft drink and hard drugs, cola and coke, the ones that you love" which he chanted ad nauseum.

I can remember buying a can of warm cola from him and the little twinkle in his eye when he asked "Do you want something to go with that"?

Glastonbury 2005:
Being in the field that flooded but not being in the flood (on peering out of the tent "why are all those people on the railway line looking at us?"). Also the canoe - did anyone ever find out where that came from?

Cambridge Folk Festival 1999:
Having abandoned all hope of getting to the front to see Nick Cave, finding it remarkably easy as the folkies left in droves (he was, of course, magnificent).

Reading 1980:
Not being beaten up by the biker "security" as everyone else seemed to be at some point.

Fife Aid (yes, really!) in 1986, my first outdoor festival; Meeting Robbie Coltrane, who looked like he'd slept in his clothes under a bush. "How's it going Robbie!" I said. "F**k off" he wittily replied. Never mind, I got his autograph (and David Bellamys!). Misty in Roots playing for three hundred years... or maybe it just seemed that long. Runrig being very tedious.

Reading 1987 - My first proper festival. Losing my mate who I'd travelled down from Scotland with in the crush to see "The Mish"... then realising, halfway through their set, that I was standing next to a guy I knew from back home. Not bad in a crowd of 30,000. Status Quo being surprisingly good... also The Fall on the same day... strange bill. Pompous prat of a lead singer from American Metal act "Lizzy Borden" being hit square in the face with a bottle of piss and storming off in the huff.

Fife Aid (again, think they only did two), 1988. Pissed with rain for the whole of the Saturday, pausing only to let us see the Sugarcubes (woo-hoo) and Marillion (last show ever with Fish). Getting my mates covered with mud as they helped push my car out of the campside mud... then my smile disappearing fast as I realise the next thing they'd be doing would be sitting inside it.

T in the Park 1994/1995 - First 2 events at Strathclyde Country Park were a lot more low key than the current festival; Oasis on in the middle of the bill in one of the tents, with a captive audience because it was raining so hard. Watched them play "Supersonic" then left thinking "This lot won't amount to much..." Supergrass headlining the tent the following year... absolutely fantastic, what a great live band they are/were. Watching the Manics as a 3-piece because Richie was in hospital... Aimee Mann bringing some class to the occasion... Kylie (pre-disco makeover) causing a riot at the NME signing tent. Crowded House on a rainy Sunday afternoon playing as many songs with "Rain" in the title as they could remember.

... playing Hey Jude at Reading one night in the 70's, 30,000 singing along, he cut the volume and we all kept going. And I can never get to this end of this brief story without a tremor in my voice.

I'm still glad I stayed home.