Miltown 2007 - part 1.

Five days is a very long time when you're camping in a hot pink tent that is clearly not waterproof and bedtime is regularly past three (if you're lucky). The biggest and baddest festival of the lot was last week and it has taken until Sunday night for me to feel healthy enough to write about it.

Sunday rolled around a whole lot faster than I'd intended (the previous week had seen a heavy work and gig schedule, and Saturday night was a birthday night out for a mate). The result of it was, somewhat inevitably, that packing resorted to grabbing a pile of clothes and a handful of socks, stuffing them into two bags and lobbing the whole lot into the boot. Onto this I threw my double duvet and a pillow, my pink pink pink tent (purchased in a fit of giddy excitement for €16 in Dunnes - I should have known) and a horrid cheap sleeping bag, the kind that sticks to your every move like some sort of creepy old man from the birthday night out the night before (twas Teds we frequented on the Saturday night. If you're from Limerick you'll know what I mean).

Miltown bound I was, and despite nearly being killed through no fault of my own on the dual carriage way on the way down, I arrived, fresh faced and innocent, to blue, blustery skies and sunshine. Boys were duly dispatched to put up my tent. They complained bitterly about the colour of course, but it was up and I was off to the Belbridge in a borrowed Limerick camogie jersey to watch the Munster hurling final.

Eep. Hurling. Not even close to having even a rudimentary appreciation for the fastest game in the world, I went into a room full of Waterford supporters who laughed at me when Limerick lost. I think I spent more time outside with my pint than watching the game (I'm more of a rugby girl really), but I did my duty for my county and spent the rest of the night proudly wearing my borrowed jersey.

Tunes were duly called for, and Brona and Eimear Graham, Mickey Dunne and a few others started up a session in a part of the Belbridge that had the unhappy distinction of being the most airless, sticky and humid place in the whole of Co. Clare. Still, we persisted, and in true Miltown style, about forty thousand musicians joined us, the whole thing descended into a bit of a mess, and I went off for pints. (Weight Watchers not being foremost among my thoughts, given the late hour.)

On the subject of pints, the Belbridge has no Heineken on tap. This was at first glance mildly annoying, but in retrospect I think it's kinda cool. A bit of individualism in a world of McDonalds, Walmart and chinese fiddles.

Anyways, the second day of Miltown continued in much the same vein. A short spell of recuperation (i.e. a shower and fifty three cups of tea in my parents' friend's mobile home) and back on it again. A civilian (that is, non musician) mate of mine came down (I was only mildly irritated with the thoughts of having to share my pink palace) and we hot-tailed it into Michael A's for a few tunes. There was one minor blip in the interim, however. We had heard that a family I know were going home a night early and they had very kindly offered us their room in the Belbridge for the night. It had started to rain like nobodies business in the meantime, so this was most excellent news. Happy days!! So I enthusiastically blagged a key from reception and all but ran up to my luxurious suite for the night, burst in the door, cries of triumph echoing down the carpeted halls behind me......

.....to find all three members of the family inside in the room, sitting about. They seemed very surprised to see me (as you would). It was with burning red cheeks I heard that in fact the room was for the following night and that I was going to be back in the pink tent that night. Horrors. They were very nice about it though, and my own parents thought that my complete lack of social grace was hilarious. They didn't hesitate to remind me of it either.

A long night followed with not many tunes, and a feed of pints (Carlsberg, not Heineken seeing as your asking). We were the last to leave the Belbridge (true to form) and ended up walking back to Lahiffs, where we were met by a puddle in my little pink hovel (a palace no more I'm afraid). Woke up soaked to the skin and had to walk all the way back to the Belbridge to collect the car. It's enough to make you shed a tear. And I think I did.

More tomorrow lovlies. My nice warm BED in my nice warm HOUSE with a nice DRY blanket and a nice COMFY mattress awaits. You can see why I'm leaving the rest until tomorrow.