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As a perimenopausal woman who still goes to music festivals, here are my rules for surviving the weekend

Tanya Sweeney


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‘In a bid to stave off hypothermia, my friend and I were forced to wear several pairs of underwear on our heads’

‘In a bid to stave off hypothermia, my friend and I were forced to wear several pairs of underwear on our heads’

‘In a bid to stave off hypothermia, my friend and I were forced to wear several pairs of underwear on our heads’

Well, I have made it home from my first music festival in about four years. I’ve checked, and all 10 fingers and 10 toes are still intact. I’m at once exhausted and recharged. On my return home, a friend brought a tweet to my attention: “People over the age of 35 (and that’s pushing it) attending music festivals don’t realise they’re ruining the vibe and weirding everyone out,” it read. “You might think you’re living your best life but you’re actually living your most embarrassing life. Try a real ale festival instead.”

To which the only sane response is: swap out Caribou and Nick Cave for headliners like IPA and Premium Pale? No chance. At last count, I’ve been going to music festivals for (eek) more than a quarter of a century, and it looks likely that I’ll continue to weird others out and/or live my most embarrassing life.


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