So we were calling this little "memorable pints" series we appear to have started our Pub Chronicles, and then I went and threw a curveball in the mix. The Festival Tuborg.
The moment, the time, the place, and the company are oft cited as being some of the major components of beer. And whilst musing on this we realised it doesn't even matter if what we're drinking is watery flavourless slightly yellow stuff out of a paper cup that's worth 10p upon return. There's just something about being rained on, sunburnt, sleep deprived and full of crisp sandwiches and cold noodles, surrounded by a cluster of people who all feel the same way as you do, that makes the Festival Tuborg taste... if not perfect, then flawless.
We made some of our very best friends at Download Festival in 2010. We met whilst working on the entrance tent putting wristbands on festival goers. We shared a few beers and TetraPak cartons of Tesco Value wine. We spent 5 days together and left the festival feeling like we'd all known each other forever, and the people we met there are to this day some of the most important people in our lives. Many more festivals, club nights and house parties followed - with one of the constants being a can or pint of mainstream lager. And y'know what? It really doesn't matter that the taste is unremarkable.
Those pints hold us to a time and a place. They're karaokeing to Bohemian Rhapsody with 1000 other people. Crying at System of a Down. An elbow to the head in an Offspring pit. Ecstatic over spring rolls. Waiting eagerly for Rammstein to blow our minds. Being hysterical over portaloos. Making up whole new dance moves. Adding a long straw so we don't have to sit up out of our sleeping bags. Understanding, sharing, and belonging.
We miss live music.
We miss festivals.
We miss our friends.
And we miss pints of crap lager.
Laura
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