In the corner of an english field.

 

As I pluck the last strand of straw out of my hair, now seems the perfect time to start reminiscing about the past weekend. I know that music festivals aren't everyone's cup of tea; the idea of spending multiple days stranded in a lumpy field, your phone battery slowly giving up the ghost and surrounded by people arguing as to whether someone is in the tent without checking at 4am isn't particularly appealing, but the faithful british institution finds itself beckoning punters back year after year, with over 250 individual festivals taking place annually. The Glastonbury institution may have taken a well-deserved rest while London 2012 used its portaloos, but I headed back to Brownstock festival for the third year in a row, to see what exactly was going down in Brown town...

 

Arriving a little later than my friends due to the event coinciding with the last day of my internship, I found my tent pegged in place (thanks Amy!), guitar being passed round, and generally an environment as far removed from the Tottenham Court Road office I'd left three hours previously as possible. As twilight encroached, we headed into the arena for dodgems and fairground rides, followed by a trip to the silent disco (well documented by my camera, but never will these be published online, for the greater good!). The two main days of the festival were spent between the Piano DJ tent - sets by Devon Mayson, Calico Ghost Town and the opportunity to sing Wonderwall incredibly out of tune - the Noise Kitten Treehouse for friends' DJ sets, the Good Shed for Grand Master Flash, Zane Lowe and Nero, and the Main Stage for Labrinth, the Futureheads, the Milk, et al. The music, without doubt, is the basis of a festival, but it's the DJ playing Jay-Z and Kanye that persuades you to stay at the silent disco, heading to the aptly named Stumble Inn for dubstep when everything else has closed, or, if all else fails, huddling round a piano for a singsong in your pyjamas when you decide you're not ready for bed quite yet that makes it slightly different to sitting in your back garden with the subwoofer pumping out album tracks.

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When I was a child running in the night I was afraid of what might be

1. Hungry for the Breakfast Club

2. Patisserie Valerie

3. Reflections upon Liverpool

4. Me, Claire, Sian, and Bel in Birmingham

5. Bukowski

6. Bracing ourselves for Sabby's birthday

7. Brownstock 2011

It certainly has been a while since I've posted any of my film "photography" on my blog. In fact, I still have a set to scan, and a few rolls of film waiting impatiently to be developed, but I like to think this'll only heighten the surprise/shame when I do finally see what delights are trapped inside the feared negatives. I don't see myself as a photographer, and leave the technical stuff to Jazzy, Lily, Laura and Sophie, but I still like to have a camera (or two, or three...) in my bag to capture moments in time. I know that a lot of people think bloggers ought to have a pricey DSLR to be worth taking up precious pixels, but my little point and shoot and I are plodding along just fine. The above photos were taken with a job lot of expired disposable cameras purchased from ebay, working out as well under one British pound each. They may not grace the pages of a glossy magazine, but I'd rather have a stack of these than a floor to ceiling pile of Vogues any day.

Today marks the end of a summer of interning. Three months of commuting past the Olympics - done! I'm being a little cheeky and leaving early today, in order to get to Brownstock festival before the ticket office closes. It's becoming tradition to end my summer sitting on a ground sheet surrounded by a buzzing bassline from afar, friends cross-legged playing guitar as the sun sets, and dancing to unknown (and familiar!) bands. I may have dreams of Coachella, but I really don't think anyone can do a music festival like the brits!

Enough romanticising, and a quick mention of romance - I'd just quickly like to say congratulations to the newly wedded Mr & Mrs Wren. I wouldn't put it past Eloise to make her first dance a Pitbull tune...

xxx

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How now, brown cow?

 

Playsuit: £9, Beyond Retro. Blouse: £2, charity shop. Belt: 20p, charity shop. Bag: £8, vintage. Shoes: £27, Topshop. Sunglasses: £1, Primark. Bracelets: £1, Topshop. Necklace: Toujours Toi, via Dina.

Photos taken by Danielle.

Since my weekdays are currently consumed by the 9-5 (plus commute...), I'm determined to ensure my weekends are are strictly fun. No moping around the house listening to the Smiths, but catching up with friends that I don't get to see when I'm in Liverpool. It is steadily becoming tradition to attend Brownstock festival with my friends from sixth form, as its timing winds up the end of summer perfectly. Jess invited me along for lunch on Sunday afternoon, and, with festival virgin Danielle alongside, we only got a little bit lost.

 

Sitting on the back of a tractor being driven by a toddler was an interesting experience, but it just goes to show how much of a family affair the day was: from Jess tweeting away, to Adam cooking the roast and freezing smoothie lollies. I sat in the sunshine listening to Jakob Deist, Itchy Feet, and Stealing Signs, while Danielle played with Rags, who we've unofficially dubbed the Brownstock dog. I wasn't asked to blog about the day, but I had such a good time and took so many photos it would be a shame not to share them. And, a cheeky exclusive for you, here's the newest additions to the line-up... 

xxx

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an overgrown house party.

last photo by ashlea hugh

i attended brownstock festival for the second year in a row (see my post about last year's here). of course i managed to successfully avoid any of the professional photographers, yet i managed to go through a total of two and a half disposable cameras, as well as most of the film on my lomo fisheye (yet to be developed, the suspense/fear lies palpably inside my bag).
i don't know whether it's the board games, pianoke (there was a rather impressive rendition of parklife), or the mindset of the local rugby club to dress up (i saw mankinis, a french maid, and some nuns), but i just love brownstock. it's small, especially when compared to the only other nearby festival v, but that just adds to the charm. and lessens the queue for the mediterranean wraps. so good, i can't even.

and somehow we adopted/inherited/won a pink unicorn, christened dave.

xxx

ps, i've been featured by florrie on british style bloggers. click through if you fancy a little read about paying to wash your clothes and how film photography is fab.

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demimonde

beardyman and a beach ball

i still have my wristband on (:

these photos are from brownstock festival that i attended last weekend.

still suffering from what has been dubbed "festival flu", so i reckon that marks it as a pretty good event. i'd recommend it to anyone who fancies a weekend of good music for £50.

see you there next year?

and here's a video of beardyman, he's insanely talented

(and i was awake during his entire set, shut up)

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