Festival Song

Last Thursday I drifted my way in and out of a codeine-induced sleep throughout the four hour drive to Latitude Festival; the festival of choice, I soon discovered, for affluent, middle class and middle aged hippies and their kids. You might have noticed a lack of posts recently. Yes, I know that it was like, ten days of no posting, and the trip was only five days, but there was recovery time involved. Plus, almost a whole week of work immediately bit me on my hungover arse, which my body did not appreciate and subsequently rewarded me with aches and strains and a refusal to keep my eyelids open past midnight. I cannot deny, however, that the festival was utterly and completely worth it. Despite the unpredictable weather, Latitude easily topped the charts as the best festival of my life, hell, the best weekend of my life.

Above and above, the lovely, charming and, most importantly, very talented The Late Greats. And their severely under-age groupies.

Preparing for (above) and enjoying (below) David Ford's spectacular impromptu secret show by the woods.

"Bjork! Bjork! It's Bjork!" These strange piggies shouted as they outstretched their fingers and point their cameras at me.

Having one last practise before our performance of Gangsta's Paradise for The Late Greats' Indie Ghetto set (above). I say 'our' performance, but really, I was only one part of the five-piece (mostly talentless) chorus. A very important chorus, however.

See? We had the whole 'ghetto' thing down pat.

Jeffrey Lewis performed two sets over the weekend: One sans band (above) and one with band. Both were equally amazing. I think I might just be addicted to him.

The Tree of Lost Things.

Patrick Wolf. My, how I would kill for his costumes. He came out in a black and white, musical OWL outfit. Suffice to say, I almost fainted.

Bobs was asked to participate in a project for BBC (actually, I kind of volunteered him.) Listen to the end result here.

Many more photos here, if you're interested. And, on a side note, does anyone know how I can get my photos all big and lovely? I'm HTML incompetent, I'm afraid.

Right, back to bed, where I will be catching up on the mountains of sleep I've missed. It's tough when your used to 12-hour-long, uninterrupted slumbers. My only saviour to this relentless schedule (I don't care what you might say, festivals are hard work folks) has been the beautiful, delicious, Bonsoyed up coffee from Taylor St Baristas in Travelbag, on 130 Queens Rd, Brighton. I highly, highly recommend it. While I might just be particularly overjoyed to have found a little place with rich, smooth, nutty coffee, Australian baristas (with Australian accents - oh my, how I've missed you!) and BONSOY (the kind of soy milk that cows are frickin' jealous of), I don't think I'd be understating if I said it's the best coffee I've had in England. Hell, the best coffee in EUROPE, I've had thus far. Man, the best weekend and the best coffee ever. What's going to come next? The best sleep? Yes. Please.

Cheer Up (You Miserable Fuck)

Yeah, I know. I look like a miserable fuck. But what you don't understand is that it's all part of the image (at least that is what I'll tell my Mother when she asks why, in my latest English photos, do I look so depressed and why don't I come home now?) But you see, usually I don't wear this much black and blue but I'm afraid this jacket just brings out the dark - and early '80s - side of me. And, I really like it. You know, personally, I think I'd make a pretty awesome goth/emo.

Bobby calls it all my 'disinterested junkie look'. I told him that I'm not that bad of an actress and once I was in an episode of Blue Water High. If I want to do junkie, I can do junkie. Case in point:

Headband: Made from some lace from C&H Fabrics. It has since been reincarnated into a pair of gloves.
Top: £1.50 from St. Wilfred's, a charity shop in Eastbourne. It's pretty close to being crowned the best charity shop of all time. Last week Bobs got a pair of suede brogues from there for 30 pence.
Vest: U-Turn, a Sydney second hand store.
Leather jacket: A Brighton second hand store called Traid for £2. It's real leather too, would you believe? I love the military aspect to it.
Gold rose broach tied around some leather: 75p from St. Wilfred's sister charity store.
Shoes: Bought yesterday at a charity store for £1.
Bag: Also bought yesterday at another charity store for £1.50.

And look who came to suss out what we were doing when we were taking photos. It's only GARFIELD!


By the way I totally met Garfield's future wife the other day. I know this because she was also ginger and also very friendly and also came when I called her. I should totally hook them up. It doesn't classify as kidnapping slash catnapping if I'm only taking the cat from his home so he can make out with his future wife, right? Oh and don't ask me how I know that Garfield is a boy and Mrs Garfield a girl. Because I don't. And I'm not prepared to go poking around to find out. I'm an emo, not a pervert.