This is my third consecutive Latitude Festival, my second spent in the company of my partner, Clare, and the first where we’ve brought the kids along. As the Bard once said: “The times they are a’changing.”
Right now, I’m scribbling notes in the porch of our canvas chateau with my five year-old stepdaughter, Lily, perched next to me. She’s watching the world go by, and I can’t say I blame her. There’s always plenty to see at Latitude, and its not necessarily limited to the official acts.
The sun is out and in the distance we can hear Ladyhawke performing on the Obelisk stage. We should be there, really.
I’ve never pitched my tent in a festival’s family enclosure before, due in no small part to the fact that I never had a reason to. One of the first things I noticed was something quite mundane and about as far from Rock and Roll as you can get.
It’s the quality of the loos.
They’re nice and clean and flush like proper loos should, and I’ve reached an age where this is important to me. Sad, really. Of course, starting a family is a major responsibility. I wouldn’t dream of suggesting that someone should embark on such a life-changing adventure just so they could gain access to a better quality of facility.
But it’s something to think about.