The Electric Picnic 2008

Forever in Electric Dreams

5am buses,playlists,jaffa cakes,roadsigns,laughing gardaí,the first view,waving civil defence,chaff underwheel,the potential, tents, smells, grass, queues and other queues, wristbands, that little bit of apprehension over bottles, scottish accents, hefting, seeing, choosing a space, old friends,"where are you?", introductions, new friends, immediate help and bonding, tent poles and clips, the first sign of wasps, co-operation given and unbidden, soundchecks,that first drink,granola bars, one last run to the car, leaving it unlocked, toilet paper padding, wandering, old faces arriving, grins and helping hands, bing-bong...bong-bing, people, cups, keeping the last few spaces, done?lets go. Bingo, boats, please, checks and queues, clouds ominous but patient, ne'er a hard word, surprise friends, body and soul,cello friends, grassen seats, times that can't be true, phones, dancing, supping, happy matador bulls, dragons, new hugs, the smile of a person knowing not what to expect and the wry smiles of those that do, that particular expression when one knows they are dancing like a flipping idiot but not one person thinks that of them, looks and like, the can can, strained sounds of other worlds, and suddenly children, trees and doors, jumps and carousal, dropped drinks and knocked drinks but no matter, excitement building, tiny friendly faces masked by happiness, this way, that way, one shoe, no shoes, realisation, acoustic hip hop,more friends by a gazebo,balloons, rumours and remembered faces, seats with no rules, passing it left, spares, first hopplandic songs wafting on the air, mojitos from a pirrouheting glass,next ones, snow and new cups, painting on giant letters, the temple where nothing is ever forgotten because it cannot last long enough to do so,darkness comes a-falling, fairylike rock, one last step, one last reach and the fence, waiting, "hello-whats-your-name?" smiles, giddiness, the first sign of cameras signals what is waited for, formal attire, icelandic blondes, feathers and bows, sound, old memories that still hurt,desired noise power, hope, love, loss, tears, cheers, shielded real worlds, friends of friends, signals, purity, breathless moves, frantic reaching for that unreachable essence, men in white suits, brass and strings, a voice that is not there, fading, drum skins beautiful for they are beaten and bruised, setlist, goodbyes. Sleep and wanderings. Trees with raves, falling but unhurt, tents, tea, sights, a bicycle unrideable, sleep beckoning. Actimel, fruit, hangovers and excitement, ablutions in a field, breakfast in a paintball arena, flushing toilets,good mornings everywhere,trodden grass,transformers, mojitos, a brand new day, funk and fun, luminous jackets, pretend confiscations, silliness and happiness, dancing, mud, regretless nights, dancing to flames, dancing to nothing,eyelashes, seeing those who will be there, sitting in a tree again, dancing to a painted man with a saxophone, a stranded boat, found whisky,vinnie my old friend, pizza from a bus, all bartered for, job opportunities for those who will look, time spinning away, settling for sleep, cramps and hydration, morning once more, the sun spits her love, mooncups, german wasps,tax, death and all sorts of conversations, bingo, festivor, JAMIE, flags and trees, sunshine, mixes, noodles and soul, one last truth, ears assaulted, songstress and love, rain threatening as night claims the picnic once more, people flying through the air, death of a night, fires, the beautiful people, blankets, the flame of a split tree giving us back the energy of the sun, towards the silent excuberance, spitting then raining then something to say that somewhere someone was angry, then to truth aflame, slowly slowly but burning brightly and fully once more. Crashing back to the ground now damp with what fell, souls restored we fall too. Slowly home, slowly sleep. The world turns faster now as the end nears. Goodbyes on the walk. Slowly the site grows quieter. Then morning reclaims us. The real world wants us back. Fighting to the end we hold close this feeling and leave a little piece of us still in the Stradbally. Wheels spin and struggle but soon all are free. the last of the music says it all. Tiny dancers sing and the real world reclaims us and we pass through that gate in our heads. Breakfast is debated. One last song that was never played on the drive for it plays still in my head. For like Mic said this is the way we can go. The foolish game we play. One last time we eat together and smile.


Then home to real homes and times turn to memories. Soon the feeling will dissolve only to be distilled again.