Eventually we got all bags packed up and tents dismantled. As many of you know, I hit festivals with my trademark cow-print tent. The Cow (as it was originally known) housed Sam and I during Pukkelpop ´06. Then it was washed away during Novak´s Roskilde experience of ´07. So then I got another - The Cow Mach 2 - which took me to Latitude ´07 and now, Pukkelpop ´08. Everyone loves The Cow. It´s known far and wide.
Unfortunately, Someone fell onto my tent on the first night of this festival and broke one of the tent poles. It was fixable with Emma´s crazily strong medical tape (that she "borrowed" from the hospital) but I decided to leave it because it didn´t make sense to lug it all around Spain and Holland with me for a month, and it was going to be a lot more expensive to mail it back to London than to just buy a new one.
So...onwards to The Cow Mach 3!
We said our goodbyes as the tears freely flowed.
It was amazing that was once a lush, green expanse of field when we arrived, was now little more than a rubbish tip; balding from too much foot traffic, more mud than grass. It was hilariously sad.
We stopped for some food to escape the hoards of partyed out festival goers and eventually got on a train back to Brussels.
I made a new friend on the train.
We had to wait until near-midnight to catch our overnight train, so we occupied our time at the train station by eating ten times our body weight in Belgian chocolate.
We eventually caught the overnight train to tiny French town on the border of Spain.
It was nice to sleep on a surface that wasn´t barely covering lumps of grass, rock and dirt.
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