I'm going straight to Hell

November 07, 2009

I'd better preface this with the fact that my memory is crap at the best of times, and downright deluded at the worst, so this story may not be 100% accurate. I told it to Mattgreen the other night and unlike most of my anecdotes, I was amazed to find he hadn't heard it before.

Many, many years ago, when the charts were full of the KLF, Chesney Hawkes and Color Me Badd, I went to Reading Festival. My brother (who's two years younger than me) and I had a tent which our parents bought for us to share. A few scant weeks before I left for Reading, I discovered that my brother wanted to use the tent to go to some dodgy young people's Christian festival called Greenbelt (you would not believe how much googling I had to do to find that link)!

My mother (bless her) had said he couldn't go because I had got my request in first. However, she also said that he could use the communal tent next year, which would thereby prevent me from going to Reading the following year.

So, off I went to Reading with my lovely tent and my trusty marker pen.
One night, while myself and my pal were innocently sleeping in the tent, some dastardly blasphemer came along and cruelly wrote SATAN in three-feet-high letters on the side of the tent. I have no idea why - perhaps they thought it was funny...

In any case, OBVIOUSLY this meant my bro could no longer take the tent to Greenbelt. My mum bought him a new tent, and I set myself to the task of painting flowers all over the Satan inscription. This had the added bonus of making my tent stand out from a mile away in a field full of green.

Here is the lovely Eleanor posing next to my tent in 1992:

If my hazy memory serves me well, wasnt it you that wrote on the tent to spite your good chuch going brother?
How dare you. As if!
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