On the road to T

Waking up with calf muscles so sore that I can hardly walk,. And a ringing in my ears, it';s time to pack fro T in the park. In the few hours that I am home, I need to put a wash in, as I've not had time to wash my conference clothes since leaving Vienna. I'll then pick them up on return from T in the park. This is one of the little publicised elements of travelling – when are you meant to do your washing to prevent you either smelling, or only wearing new clothes. Moan Moan Moan.

Anyway – I pick up the bundle of tents, sleeping bags, and general camping accouterments which I left there on return from Skye(I'm so organised!!!), and throw them in the back of my mates care. We have encountered our first problem. This is a vauxhall corsa, we have three people yet to pick up, and the boot is now full. But what the hell – we're going to T in the Park!!!!!!

T in the Park is Scotland's music festival. It started in 1993 or 1994(from the Ash's of the Tennants live summer events based in Glasgow, but my first year was 1995 when I got to see many of the people who would become Brit pop heros perform in front of three students and a sheep. My first year included – Skunk anansie, Dodgy, Supergrass, Ash, the prodigy, and various other bands which weren't famous then, got a little bit more famous, and are not famous now. In those days the concert was in Strathclyde park, near a place in Scotland called Hamilton, but now it is Balado near a place called Kinross. It has grown each year. It now has 70,000 attendees, so I would assume that in 1995 it was closer to 20,000. I have been to various years in between with friends who have came and went, and I have seen many a band. What is more important is the atmosphere, of 70,000 drunken scots in a campsite/music festival.

So we head off to pick up our fellow happy campers. It's a real challenge, as they have even more than we do, but we manage and head off in the direction of Glasgow. We stop at Asda to stock up on food etc. I warn that everything that we buy has to go on people's knees. Despite this warning we manage to fill a whole trolly.(A lot of which I must admit was beer). So the next leg of the journey takes place with three extremely squashed passengers ;in the back of the car. The journey up is pretty good fun – helped not least by the iTrip and iPod combination. By the time we get to Kincardine bridge we are in a Traffic jam, but you already know that these are all fellow T-in-th-parkers so you don't mind so much. This is however the start of the Queuing. We wave at passing pedestrians in small sleepy towns, we wave at fellow travellers. Generally there is a good fun atmosphere as we

Eventually we arrive at the T in the park car park. Now the fun really starts. We have about three car''s full of stuff to make our weekend more enjoyable. We have got to get this stuff from the car park to the camp site. We don't know how far it is, but in order to get settled down(i.e. Have a beer) as quickly as possible, I take as much as I can, and set off. Very soon, I realise that we have quite a way to go until we get to the campsite. Everyone's pace slows, as it becomes clear that this is no short walk. Several rests and unhappy faces later, we finally get to the first stage of security. We have to empty out all our glass bottles into plastic milk cartons. This includes, vodka, red wine, white wine and lambrini – we have just increased the amount of bottles we have which makes carrying things even more awkward. The pace is slowing to something approximating reverse, and my beer is getting further away, while simultaneously destroying my shoulder muscles.

Once through the first ticket secure area, I decide to take matters into my own hands. I will take all the stuff I have and run ahead with my fellow Skye-Trekker to a pitching site. Once this is done, I'll run back and then make the way back with the girls with a more even load while Luke Skye-Trekker is pitching the tents. As a Scottish boy and fisherman I can trust him to do this. I can also trust his pride as a male not to complain about not getting the rest that the girls get – even tho we all need it just as much.

This seems to be the light at the end of the tunnel. We are now multi-tasking. I trust that we now have manageable baggage, and the tents will be pitched when I return. I return to the heavy faces of the girls and take the stuff back.(That beer has to be getting closer!!!)

It's now about 11pm. The people around me are getting drunker, and I'm regretting leaving so late, getting stuck in Traffic, and bringing so much stuff. Eventually guide the girls to the pitched tents. Nearly time to sit down and start dinner while other people go back and bring more stuff from the car. We also have a new task. We have to exchange our ticket for a wrist band. This is reported to take a few hours, and This will have to be done before we can return to the car. So I am not over the moon when I realise that all my fellow campers have lost their tickets on the route from the ticket security to the tent. I am the only person left with a ticket, so I have to go and get a wrist band myself, and also go and get all the stuff from the car myself, I set off to go get more stuff in order that I can finally sit down for a beer. The wrist band queue is skippable. Sorry to anyone who queued for a while, but needs must.

A very very very tired and not-so-happy camper returns to the campsite after the 3 mile or so walk with the remaining stuff myself. I've had to mull over going to T in the Park tomorrow myself, that they will probably not want to sit in the tent all weekend and go home, and that I could have spent a lot less money going to concerts myself closer to Amsterdam. My arms are agony. I carried extra stuff on the way on the understanding that it would speed things up. Now I have carried about 3/5 of the stuff for 5 people. I'm feeling heavily hard done to. My only comic turn is in the security tent where I get frisked – maybe cos I'm on my own.

With a face like fizz I nod grumpily to all the questions “any sharp objects?”, any drugs?” “any bombs?”. Standard crap. I'm used to traveling and putting up with the mundane – but now I'm in Scotland. We have a need to cheer each other up. He sees that I am pissed off and adds “Any porn – hardcore or softcore?”. It's T-in-the-park, no matter your mood, you are part of a team – the Scottish team – determined to have a good time – even the security is part of that. I answer “You buying or selling?” with a smile. You can't be grumpy here. People just don't allow you. You have to be very determined to have a bad time, it's against the security rules.

So I return to the campsite, not really that pissed off, but determined to let everyone know how annoyed I am with them, and how much they should appreciate my efforts, when they couldn't handle a third of what I did, not because I'm fitter, just because it has to be done, and standing about moaning about it doesn't get it done. Maybe traveling has hardened me.

The good news is that they have found the tickets. Someone found them on the ground and handed them in. This is astounding. Touts are selling tickets outside for at least £300 and there was 4 tickets there. I finally get my beer(albeit a little warm), and I get to cook a good beef stew to the amazement of many drunken campers passing and wondering why someone is chopping red onions and crushing garlic.





After a good feed and a few beers, everybody's happy and we chat until the early hours before going off to bed looking forward to the weekend to come........