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Chrismpw's letters from a festival

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Ffs

Taking in a band, I'm sat under the shade if a small beech tree, trying to look cool pirched on an uncomfortable shooting stick I got from a car boot sale. When I stood up to relieve my aching arse a branch whipped my glasses off and straight into a single use plastic pint of someone's beer.

Getting irritable now. I may be overtired.
I think its passed your bed time chrish. don't battle it.
 


Getting a lot of snidey texts from a deeply envious Mrs Chrismpw who could have come but had to work. She's having to work from home to look after our stupid dog which has (again) spent 48 hours squirting explosive diarrhoea into every corner of the house.

I'm trying to convince her that it's a miserable event in a warehouse and it's raining, but she's not buying it.

Am at a loss.
 
Getting a lot of snidey texts from a deeply envious Mrs Chrismpw who could have come but had to work. She's having to work from home to look after our stupid dog which has (again) spent 48 hours squirting explosive diarrhoea into every corner of the house.

I'm trying to convince her that it's a miserable event in a warehouse and it's raining, but she's not buying it.

Am at a loss.
Hang on in there pal, be brave x
 
Yep that's what I'm working with. The curator they mentioned there, Jem, is my mates mate who coordinates the kids entertainment.

Years back I helped with clay workshops. Never enjoyed it though. Although I'm a teacher I taught big kids. Not only were these kids tiny, and a mobile trip hazard they also had an immutable ability to produce utterly $hit clay sculptures snd present them to you for approbation.

Now I'm not comfortable lying to kids like other adults, so I found it hard to not send them away in tears after an honest appraisal and a full itemised rundown of where they need to improve (just like government insist we do in school).

What's more some of the little turd factories, when they returned at the end of the day, would mistake my exquisitely sculptured clay snails, whales and pigs for their mutated lumos of malformed mud and nab them to take home.

Nowadays I'm happier to be asked to fetch, carry, put up flags, close up venues, fix Jem's caravan (a frequent event) and generally problem solve.

Anything that doesn't involve smiling at the little gits, or having to pick out bits of children from the tread of my boots at the end of the day.
 

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