All Tomorrow's Parties 4/4

We woke at 7:30 to clean the chalet, our minds and ourselves. Food and fuel was grabbed via the aforementioned Tescos. At was at this point that Rob became a granddad. Confused and agitated by the world, he explained that after I went to bed, he snaffled the remains of his pixie dust, ran off to the Crazy Horse and ended up in another Chalet where he wrote and recorded an off the cuff demo with some guys from Cornwall. He hadn't been to sleep at all and was still up. Very much up.

I whacked the CDs on again. Driving back was far worse than the drive down: a constant battle of heavy eye lids and Relentless Juiced Berry (seriously. endorsement.) The average speed cameras hit us harder this time. With so many roadworks along the stretches free of cameras, progress was slow and we all lost our minds to the cabin fever insanity. The pasta was now able to melt steel and fumes were probably intoxicating us off our collective faces. This required constant service stops so that we could find a large open space for screaming and bloodletting to keep us on the right side of crazed. If Rob had become the drug addled grandfather, Seymour was quickly becoming the child in need of tranquilisers. Powerful ones.
We slammed Fucked Up into the CD player. Listening to it again after their set changed by view point once again. I'm sure the shut-in the car madness played it's part, but for brief moments i thought it was the greatest album ever made. Which it isn't. It is very good however and managed to keep me conscious as we drove through hell aka. the motorways of the south west.
Finally making it to Leeds, we dropped the car off with the designated (as far as they were concerned) driver and i dashed for the train. All over and done like that.

ATP: the nightmare before christmas was weird. Terrible weather and a terrible headliner although they did curate the thing so i have to thank them for Sun Ra Arkestra, Lightning Bolt, De La Soul, Fucked Up, Sonic Youth, Múm, The Dirty Three and every other interesting and odd happening throughout the three/four days. I wouldn't head back in a hurry. Seymour assures me ATP Vs. The Fans was amazing but this one was full of nostalgic bank managers wanting the be mid-teens again and being cunts to everyone possible. Fuck that. I could go work in an office, wear an AC/DC tee under my shirt and get paid for the experience. Not my idea of fun. Ultimately, ATP was a massive disappointment but, being cheesy as possible, the company more than made up for it whether it was from the crusty assault of goatse Rob's starfish of death, ADD Seymour or very rerry vrry drunk Maz it was hilarious from end to end. Same people, different setting please.