I was going to blog today about the sand in my underwear thing* but I haven't had the time to devote to such an important blog. So you're getting this instead.
In order for this blog to work you need to know two things. One: I like music (which you hopefully know), but more specifically I heart The Holloways. Two: (whispers) My surname, if you haven't gleaned from the days when I was a little less discrete about my identity on here, is also the name of a place in England (town? village? please don't push me on geography I'm generally quite sketchy).
So, given those two facts, imagine how thrilled I was when Nik sent me the following link.
My own festival! With The Holloways! Clearly I should have been sent a press release and free tickets and whatnot! Obviously I would attend if I could (for sheer comedy value) were it not for the fact that I have a pressing date with Latitude Festival and non-stalking Carol Ann Duffy and Martha Wainwright that weekend. Ah, well. Next year.
*See how I'm drawing this out; believe me it's worth it. Just let me say the day allowed me to cross off an 'I have never'. And possibly one you wouldn't expect. Unless you were there. In which case - don't spoil the fun.