Survival was the keyword of my Golden Plains experience. After a very cool and mild summer, the weather gods kicked it up a notch for the Labour day weekend with temperatures straying into the mid to high thirties. Dust, heat, dehydration and festival tummy all beset this merry festival goer, armed as he was with nothing more than sunglasses, gazebo, deckchair and ice chest full of beer, rum and gin. To be honest I think I did pretty well, I was pretty much drunk from the moment I got there but every hour or so I'd sneak in a bottle of water or a Gatorade as well as giving the yummy woodfired pizzas a solid workout.
The festival itself is pretty low key. A single stage, a huge grassy amphitheatre with lots of shady trees, minimal security and BYO alcohol. Highlights musically were Buffalo Tom's rough hewn charms, Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings bringing on the funk and Jens Lekman's fey balladeering. Doubly fun was catching up with all the kids from the bar, a lot of whom we hadn't seen since our last night. The little buggers were all lit up like christmas trees on whatever pills they could lay their hands on but luckily no-one overdid it and it was good vibes all round. Except of course for Nick, whose misadventures have graced this blog before. After taking enough disco biscuits to stun a mule the poor baby took a bite out a vegie burger containing peanuts. Cue peanut allergic reaction while tripping hard. Even less fun than it sounds according to Nick, but he survived thank god.