The flop that followed the festival

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Name anything – ANYTHING – that can beat scrubbing your feet in the bath after three days of festival camping/potty training in a field? Go on. I challenge you.

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So we’re back from Latitude. Knackered, grubby, knackered, happy, did I mention knackered? The Free our Kids workshops in the Momma Loves tent went miraculously well, despite my nerves. AND we pulled off potty training/pregnancy/camping in a heat wave despite:

1) My whale-like pregnant state deflating the blow up mattress TWICE.

2) The 4am screaming arguments between pissed teenage girls that woke us up in the performers campsite: “This is so typical! I can’t believe you’ve used up all my glitter on the first day. Everything’s RUINED!”

3) Turning up at the campsite after a three and a half hour drive to discover that the friend who’d generously lent us their bell tent had forgotten to pack any poles. At all. This is when having a husband who secretly thinks he’s folk music’s answer to Bear Grylls comes in amazingly handy:

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More on the workshops, the DIY tent and our adventures as family festival fledgelings when I’ve had some sleep and readjusted to real life. For now, here’s a blurry photo and a Rod Steward quote. Because nothing says post-festival come-down better.

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You know it didn’t cost the earth, but for what it’s worth, you make me feel a millionaire.