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Shambala festival

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My weekend was fun, to say the least. Thursday we left to go to Shambala in the wilds of Northamptonshire/Leicestershire border. The drive down was effortless but I was a little riled that there wasn't any signs for the festival at all and I considered this poor on the part of the organisers. So we roll up at the gate and there a re a few people milling about so we know that we are going to get a good spot for the tent. We head to the wristband exchange and it is at this point that we are informed that we are a day early, a whole 24 hours early, what an absolute c*ck. We get back in the car and decide that a night in a hotel would be better than heading all the way back to Stafford, we find a hotel in Rockingham and start on the wine and watch lots of Jeremy Kyle.

So anyway, the next day and we head there proper, we pull on and get a reasonable spot just behind the dance stage, ok its a little noisy but not a hardship, we can tolerate that, unlike the tw*t with a megaphone in the tent next to ours. And that is my one gripe, one man with a megaphone.

So anyway, when I first go there it was immediately apparent that the whole organisation was way more professional, that the facilities were excellent and the set up of the new site was way better than the last one. At first though, it didn't FEEL like Shambala, that soon faded though the arena was excellent, the stages were excellent, the workshops were excellent, the woodland area was excellent, the sports day, the healing field area, the hot tubs, the vegan food, the organic beers and wines, all of this was just superb.

Saturday night was party night of course and everyone, I mean everyone dresses up, Lisa was a cavegirl and I was Fred Flintstone, I met up with Scottie at this point, and his good lady, who it has to be said provided excellent company over the weekend. Whilst chatting another Fred Flintstone came over and female "boxer" with alternate fred, called me Peter, now this seriously messed with my mind, turns out it was the fair Jacketspud, her hubby Darren and her kid/interloper, again really lovely people, so saturday night was a drunken affair that involved the worlds worst juggler, a punk band and too much wine. I know people go to festivals and they say Saturday nights are a party, but really this felt like a party where everyone knew each other and everyone was out to have fun.

The whole festival was just immense and was really sad to be taking the tent down on monday, no criticisms, just a great time, a truly great festival. Met some lovely people that provided some excellent company, Kerplunk, sorry I didnt say goodbye, you had popped off as we were going.

But thinking about it, actually it was a horrible festival marred by lots of trouble, thefts, and burning of tents, there was no bar and heavy handed security, you wouldnt like it.

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I didn't like it at all. it were terrible. Made even worse by having to meet the both of you. I hope we never meet each other again. Weather was awful - no mud. Party was awful - kept going all night. Made worse by security that knew me and horrible cider. Disgusting, I'll be at Reading next time - it's where it's at. Fancy dress - rubbish idea!

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