Latitude Festival: A Review

Latitude: A Review

I woke up on Saturday morning to the sound of drunk, giggling girls and the notable smell of a particular Class B drug. As I opened my eyes to the lurid pink and green pattern of my newly purchased tent, I groaned.

So this is what festivals are like.

Before last weekend, I had never been to a festival before, but I thought the time had come to get over my fear of sleeping outdoors, public toilets and general greenery when I was offered an amazing opportunity to attend Latitude Festival, in return for this article. 

I drove to Norwich with my friend Charlotte, who had a tent, a penchant for Pimms and a little experience of tenting (which I later found out is called camping - regardless of whether there is a fire or not). After a brief hassle of trying to get into the festival, we were finally in the midst of hundreds of tents, the smell of portable barbecues burning in our noses. It was easy to find a spot next to some strong looking men (one must think about protection from wild animals when sleeping outdoors) and after dumping our stuff on the grass, Charlotte threw our pop-up tent in the air - only for it to come crashing back down to earth. We stared at each other stupidly.

"Let me try," I insisted, as I picked up the mangled pile of material and metal poles. I threw the bundle in the air, only this time, broken bits of pole fell out of the tent lining. We started to laugh - what else could we do? - and sat on the massacred remains of what was once a tent. Then the anger kicked in. Charlotte started cursing her brother who failed to mention that the tent was broken, as I started swearing about effing pop-up tents and false advertising. Hearing our distress, some kind neighbours tried to help before one eloquent gentlemen proclaimed, "Sorry ladies, you're fucked."

Luckily, this was Latitude, and within minutes, I had located another, albeit expensive, functional pop-up tent. And some much needed alcohol. With our new tent intact, it was time to start enjoying ourselves.

After a few glasses of Pimms, we made our way into the woods. Daunting as this may sound, it was the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen. Imagine A Midsummer Night's Dream with live music and more wellies. Cascading string lights went from tree to tree, leading the way to the main area of the festival, while random yurts and wooden huts served food and drink. Along the way, artists were putting away their paints, leaving behind some amazing pieces of art that stood in the forest until morning. We passed an outdoor cinema showing some art house movies, before coming to the bridge over the water next to (my personal highlight) some multi-coloured sheep.

The main area of the festival was beyond the forest and was where the bands were playing, where food was served and where little stalls selling everything from glittering pants to fairy wings were dotted around the field. Nighttime frivolities included drag shows, poetry, literature, live music, DJ sets, interpretive dance, cabaret and let's not forget the 40 year old woman with more energy than a firework on speed. Just to be clear, she wasn't technically an act, but enjoyable all the same. My night ended in a dance off with comedian Eric Lampaert before trying to undress another comic, Carl Donnelly. 

Awkwardly, I had no idea who these comedians were before I saw them in the comedy tent the following day. So when Carl mentioned he was performing the next morning, I said, "Cool, me and Charlotte will do the sympathy laughing at the back!" He looked at me for a moment and said, "Erm, I don't think that will be necessary..." At the time, I was too drunk to look ashamed, but my shame attack hit me full on the following morning.

After a coffee run and a shower (only joking, have you seen the showers at festivals?) we made our way to the comedy tent, where we spent most of our time. I realised as I walked into Carl's set why he had given me such a cocky answer the night before: the room was packed, and while he discussed a time where he shit his pants and nearly choked on a crumpet (not at the same time) the tent was filled with laughter and applause, which seemed to be a theme for the talented comics performing at Latitude. 

The arenas and spaces outside the stages were packed as the likes of Everything Everything, Yeah Yeah Yeahs and Daughter performed their little hearts out as everyone drunkenly sang along to the hits they knew, and just danced like crazy to the songs they didn't. All in all, the atmosphere at Latitude was, for want of a better word, happy. Everyone was enjoying themselves without ruining anyone else's fun, everyone was friendly, and I have never laughed so hard in such a short space of time. If only that "festival feeling" lasted, I write bitterly as I sit in my office at 7:30am. Honestly, I am really missing Latitude. Apart from the whole tent thing.