2. 1998. My first ever proper music festival. Me, a couple of mates, loads of music - it was going to be great. And how much stuff do you really need to take anyway? I picked up my tent, stuffed a few changes of underwear and tshirts into a bag and grabbed half a loaf of bread out of my parents' cupboard. sorted. I didn't have much money, but I reckoned my 500 francs (about a tenner) would see me through the weekend. My two friends had packed in a similar way and together we laughed at all the people laden down with rucksacks the size of small children. We put up our tents, drank the few beers we had with us and then wondered what to do next. When someone came round selling magic mushrooms for 500 francs it seemed the obvious thing. That was how much they cost. That was how much I had. Sorted. So just to recap - we were in a field with nothing to eat or drink and no money. Which didn't seem like a bad thing until the next day. Luckily, the festival had a system where you could exchange empty cups for drinks. Water was cheapest. So we spent the rest of the weekend getting up really early, collecting loads of discarded drinks cups, and then drinking water while eating shroom sandwiches. It was probably great. Squeamish Louise
3. I like the idea of Festivals, hanging out with our friends and listening to a whole bunch of amazing bands that you love. I do not like the idea of camping so this is why ATP was so very appealing. Sadly in reality I am a festival bore. When taken out of the routine of the day to day I seem to lose all sense of self and direction. Which means I can't drink due to discomfort in an unfamilar setting and I can't decide what bands to see and when and what to eat. I ended up going to ATP wandering around on my own and watching seminal dance film The Red Shoes and the drums of some band upstairs pounded though the ceiling. Saying that the film was amazing and I danced and got drunk with my friends later and then to bed in my ATP chalet. Nice. Squeamish Nicola
4. Every festival provides you with a couple of good anecdotes, I went to my first festival when I was 18 with my friend Peter whose mum packed him the biggest bag of sandwiches I have ever seen. You know those big bags people take to the beach? That they pack the towels in? Yeah. FULL OF SANDWICHES. The memory that is most vivid to me, probably because I am partially responsible for it, was in a chalet at ATP. I was in the toilet and a bit fed up with my fellow festival goers so taking my SWEET TIME. Someone suddenly started to frantically try the door handle. This is MY TIME I thought and didn't open the door. I came out to learn one of my fellow chalet occupants had been driven to vomit directly into a tiny glass tumbler in front of Squeamish Nicola and Chris. I missed it, but I cleaned up the vomit that could not be directed. Squeamish Kate
5. As far as I'm concerned, festivals are like the '60s anyone who can remember them wasn't really there. F1 Kate