The Fat Lady is Singing

It really is going to be virtually impossible for me to completely catch up on the goings on of what has been the absolute best festival season of my four festival run. I've only just caught up with my personal notes (and that took me half a day), and am not even close to finishing processing it all in my head.

I've met so many people, seen so many different shows, experienced the epitome of randomness, witnessed nearly every sunrise and virtually not seen my very understanding flatmates for three weeks.

Anyone who has ever done an intense season of performance in a show or play may have an idea of the flat feeling when it's all over. All the work, preparation and thrill of an audience is gone. For me, obviously it wasn't a performance, but I did watch as many of them as I could. Free entry to shows, discounted drinking until 5am and friends to share it all with led to average bedtimes of 6.30am. For three weeks I had somewhere to be almost every day, and if I didn't there were always options. Waiting for pubs to open again at 6am wasn't unusual either.

Thursday was the first night I didn't need to be anywhere. It was a strange feeling. Although having had two hours of sleep each on the previous two nights, I ended up asleep by the late afternoon and up again around 4am. The last three nights I've been in bed before midnight and actually awake in the mornings. I cooked a proper meal yesterday. The normality (state endorsed normality that is, not my own) is freaking me out a little.

The closing fireworks are tonight, weather permitting, and hopefully by then I'll be coming to some sort of closure. The feeling that I might never experience anything like this again is a little sobering.

But I have been promised work if I'm back again next year...