Over the last few days, in the run up to Glasto, my life seems to have turned into one of those logic puzzles where you are trying to get a number of items over a river in a small boat, but you have to keep crossing the river with various combinations of the items because you can’t take them all at once or leave certain combinations alone together. If I remember rightly, it’s usually a fox, a chicken and some grain, and you can’t leave the fox with the chicken, or the chicken with the grain, as one item ends up getting eaten in each case. Of course, none of this explains why you don’t just buy a bigger boat. Presumably you have to cross this river on a regular basis, I mean what sort of farmer are you?
Anyway, instead of a bizarre cargo of singular animals (again, what kind of farmer is this?), the logic problem that is my life involves a selection of tents and changes of clothes located either at my house or Sal’s house, which I have to get to my office (ludicrously located on the opposite side of London) via the northern line rush hour commute, during which I can only transport a limited number of items in case I get eaten by some banker with an attitude problem.
Today I brought in a change of clothes so that I can leave for Bristol straight from work on Wednesday evening, without having to take my suit to the festival. Tomorrow I’m going to be bringing to work the 2 tents that I stupidly offered to put up when I get there on behalf of the Thursday night late arrivals (the fools who decided to drive to the festival and can’t get any more time off work).
On Wednesday I’ll just have a rucksack (and a third tent) with me, but then in the evening I’ll have to get it all to Paddington [shudders].
Still, it’ll be worth it. I can’t wait…