8/21/2022 0 Comments A Love Letter To BoomtownI had the astute pleasure of attending Boomtown Fair, Chapter One: The Gathering in Winchester, United Kingdom in August 2022. That week was one of the best weeks of my life. Thank you to everyone that made Boomtown as stupid, wacky and special as it was. I love you all ❤ Following the absolutely earth-shattering spectacle that is Boomtown Fair, I wrote A Love Letter To Boomtown. Please let me know your thoughts in the comments below! Five hard days of raving, In the blazing sun. Five hard days of recovery, Repenting for the fun. It's been so long since we met, I thought we'd never dance. Heading up to Tribe of Frog, Tripping out to trance. Campsites full of Ketamine, There's Mullets everywhere. The biggest pair of balls I've seen, Swinging over there. Injuries aplenty, Lack of sleep is king. Blasting out the biggest tunes, The campsite all joins in. Alan, Steve and buttscratcher,
They always seem to be lost. "Coke weed pills or mandy mate?" "Sure bruv what's the cost?" Grown men sucking on balloons, Young men swallowing beans. When the bass drops at Origin, You should see the fucking scenes. Face melters, mace felters, It all blends into one. Jesus Christ he's off his nut, Who gave Cal a bomb? Everything has settled now, Theres magic in the air. Kicking up a storm Downtown, The dust is in your hair. Add to that your nose and eyes, The dust is everywhere. Cooler now the sun is gone, The stage lights up the trees. Music plays across the fields, Washing you with peace. You're with your favourite people, You've found some more to join. Check the fucking top-up point, "I've spunked all my bastard coin". Losing friends to crowds, And losing minds to beats. Much less fight for survival at night, "I'm not built for this heat". Getting back to camp so late, The hills have fucked me up. The biggest smile lands on your face, Pour yourself a cup. Talking shit, in the tent, The neighbours robbed a door. Brought back from the toilet block, And graffitied on the floor. Heelies are for nonces, One door cinema club. A fresh of breath air, brass & drum, And of course the bumbag bumps. Caning through the final beers, Finishing off the bag. The thought of heading home tomorrow, Brings forward the big sad. Tents have all been packed up now, Boomtown was but bliss. I defo need a year to heal, But Boomtown you'll be missed.
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AboutThe Lonesome Wanderer is a blog dedicated to all things solo travel, including the philosophical and introspective aspects involved with being on the road alone. More Posts
September 2022
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