How to tell if you are too old for festivals

This weekend myself and Stephen made a trip to Dun Laoghaire to a festival called The Beatyard. It was on in Dun Laoghaire harbour over two days and they had cordoned the area off and set up lots of stands plus loads of bars, an area dedicated to sneakers and another dedicated to retro games and so on. On the Saturday I am told it was the perfect weather for it, lots of lovely sun and what not. Sadly we had not purchased a weekend pass and we only went up for the Sunday. I didn't know much about the acts playing but Stephen is always keeping an eye out for quirky festivals as you do when your girlfriend is not willing to camp or a fan of very large crowds.

So we headed to Dublin yesterday the old fashioned way courtesy of Bus Eireann. Thanks to my car for having a brake malfunction just after pay-day and ensuring I was down €195 meaning the train was too damn pricey for me. We got to Dublin bright and early and got the dart out to Dun Laoghaire and then headed to the park to eat some of the delicious food they serve at their Sunday market (sourdough pizza and sweet potato fries) before checking into our lovely room at Mulgrave house and then making our way to the festival. I think the first sign I was getting too old for this festival malarkey was the overwhelming desire I felt to have a lie down on the lovely soft bed instead of heading back out the door but we had arranged to meet my brother down at the festival so I could not. 

As I left the house it was admittedly a little breezy, I was wearing a dress with a cardigan and jacket but I wasn't too cold. I was however in danger of flashing strangers and I wasn't even wearing fancy knickers. I did make it to the festival with my dignity intact and soon realised what my brother hadn't told us which is that there was hardly anyone there yet but once you go in you can't leave and come back so he kept that to himself so we would hurry down.

The festival was a little smaller than I had been expecting and they had not mastered the science of how far apart to space different stages so the music does not over lap but it was quirky and there was seating, decent food, coffee and a wide variety of drinks so I was pretty happy. It must have been half an hour in when the winds really started to pick up. Nothing like being by the sea when there's a weather warning in place. So I gave into the cold and put on my leggings in a portaloo and closed up my jacket. Shortly after that I realised that wasn't going to cut it and set off to browse the vintage clothing stand in search of a warm jumper. I came away with something suitably cosy that I'd definitely wear again and thought I was sorted. With the cold problem dealt with for now I treated myself to an Ice-cream from Teddys and it turned out to be a lot messier than anticipated but I think the temperature of the icecream may have been to blame because it was ridiculously drippy. See below, I absolutely destroyed myself and then had to abandon the icecream seeing as I didn't bring a change of clothes. 

There wasn't a huge crowd at the festival which to be fair kind of suited me better because I get claustrophobic having to fight my way through large groups of people and had the weather been nicer it would have been a lovely low key sort of day. We sat around having drinks and food until about 5 when we moved the party over to the deck chairs which had a great view of the stage and by this stage the wind chill was getting worse but I had found us lovely blankets left out by the chairs (Good thinking Beatyard) and myself and my brother were wrapped in them, it was very reminiscent of someone's grandparents at the beach.

 ( me wrapped in a blanket)

Yes we didn't look very cool but the blankets were nice and we had food and drink and could see the stage from where we were sitting. I think the realisation of how happy this all made me and seeing where my priorities lay made me feel very old indeed. We must have stayed in the one spot hiding from the cold until about 8. Watching Public Service Broadcasting (see below) who were probably one of my favourites and a very sweary Neneh Cherry (perhaps she was dismayed by the low turnout) 

Around 8 we bravely donated our blankets to others and headed to the Wigwam tent to see a very energetic British hip-hop act. The music was great but I suddenly became aware of how ridiculously sober I was and harboured some mildly violent fantasies regarding the drunken dancers who kept stepping on me. I even chuckled a little to myself watching some incredibly Irish men dancing to hip hop all waving hands and bopping heads.

Once that finished up we headed to the main stage just in time to catch the headliner. 

A DJ whose name I cannot recall who came equipped with some lovely sideways rain or perhaps that was just a bonus of Irish Summer. By now I was tired, cold and getting wet while listening to electronic music which unfortunately does nothing for me. I did start off dancing but that was mostly to keep warm and I couldn't help thinking that the women dancing with their raincoat hoods up looked like minions from behind. one poor soul leaned in to me and jokingly said I was to blame for the rain. It was possibly supposed to be a chat up line but it did not go down well and I rewarded him with a dirty look before moving far away. Once I had my fill of rain we took shelter under one of the bars and shortly after we made our way back to the guesthouse, towel dried hair, cosy pyjamas and a nice warm bed and I wont lie I was pretty excited about sleep at that stage. So it seems that I am too old for festivals or at least the outdoor ones but you know what, that's okay by me.