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Baby's Day At The Big Chill
So it was that Mrs P, Isla (our 11 month old) and I woke on the Sunday morning brimming with excitement about going to The Big Chill for the day. After a hurried breakfast, showers and converting the pram into a mobile command base we ready to go, just at the point Isla started rubbing her eyes and yawning for her morning nap, probably due to the fact we had all woken early to get ready and this had moved her normal nap forward. So Isla goes back to bed as we contemplate what the afternoon would be like if she didn’t sleep. After all she surely wouldn’t be able to sleep at the festival. No definitely not, too exciting we conclude, too loud. Car packed we sit around drumming fingers and waiting for the monitor to light up. Truly the last time I paced about like that Mrs P had a big belly and was shouting at me for gas and air.Living in Worcester it was a short hop to the site and after a short wait for wristbands we tackled the hill with all the gusto of those with their own trolley and a good nights sleep the night before.
At the top of the hill we paused and took stock. What a beautiful view it was too, the green verdant Herefordshire valley transformed into an oasis of sound and colour , Isla obviously agreed as at this point there was much pointing and going “Look!” in her little cute voice.
“Yes Isla, they are flags!”
“Look!”
“Yes Isla that’s the dance tent”
“Look!”
“Yes Isla that’s man dressed as a lady”
“Look!”
“Yes Isla that’s a festival casualty.” Ad infinitum.
Now she had discovered looking and pointing a mere two days earlier, today this new found skill would be stretched to the max.
A quick trip to the loos (I’m always amazed at how good the loos are at BC, even on Sunday.) and we were in and made our way to the main stage in the hope of meeting up with some forumites. Finding none we found a spot and unpacked the mobile command unit. Sorry pram. I had spent the previous afternoon trying to see how much I could pack on it with out the wheels falling off, a bit like buckaroo on a larger, potentially more expensive scale.
I was just admiring my own expertise and engineering prowess, when I was roused from my revery and instructed to “Go buy cider”. After a drink and a cigarette I was finally getting into the festival vibe when it occurred to me that when you do anything with a baby, normally you are focussed on the baby. It takes a bit of effort (and cider) to switch away from that and really enjoy your surroundings. Norman Jay was pumping out some fine tunes, Mrs P was dancing and I was lying on the rug with Isla climbing and standing up against me. I was then forcefully instructed to “Look!” at the screens, the flags again, The Big Hill sign (the ‘C’ had been removed at this point much to my amusement), the stage, the lady with pink hair, and a man dressed as a woman again. Now I’m moral guardian of a child I find myself concerned at the quantity of part-time transvestites at the BC. All I can say is it’s a good job we didn’t see the couple ‘performing’ in the Dance Tent or I would have been tutting like Mary Whitehouse on one of her more prudish days. Mind you it could have been worse, Lost Vagueness weren’t there this year.
Now before the Big Chill I had been worried about the noise levels and to some of Norman Jays more bassy tunes I could see Isla looking a little concerned. So I put the Baby Cans on her in the vain hope she would leave them on for more than the 5 seconds she had managed the day before. Isla always surprises me in the weirdest ways and this was no exception, as I put them on her I saw a realisation fall over her little face of what these big pink things were for, and she left them on, for about half an hour, brilliant, and amazingly cute.
After Norman Jay we thought we would check out Club Mum and the Kids Tent. This presented me with the second observation of the day. Stumbling drunkenly through a throng of sitting festival goers is easy, pushing a large overloaded off-road pram through the same crowd is like trying to navigate an ever shifting maze. Indeed after doubling back on myself twice I was presented with a sleeping casualty sprawled across my only exit. Do I turn back? Do I wake the guy, unsure of his demeanour? No I lift the pram bodily across the poor guy and just as I am stepping across him he goes “Do you want a hand with that?”. Bloody typical he couldn’t be bothered to move when I’m hovering near yet is quite happy to make a sarcastic comment. We press on.
Our visit to Club Mum and the Kids Tent couldn’t have been more badly timed, Club Mum was jammed full, and the Kids Tent was on a break so we sat and took in a little of John Shuttleworth, who I must admit I had never really heard before, and Isla seemed a bit bemused by his organ. However I must admit “I can’t go back to savoury now” had me in stitches. After a bit of lunch Isla needed a bit of a nap so we put her in the pram in a forlorn attempt to see if she would sleep. Which of course she wouldn’t, no, too loud, too much going on. So we took a walk up to the Club Tent area, through the narrowest gap, with thousands of others over to the throbbing dance tent, and, of course, by the time we got there Isla was fast asleep. So we had another cider by the lake and contemplated the fact that babies, by their very nature are surprising things and the last thing any new parent should do try and second guess them. Why? Because they know. The best illustration of this is sitting at home watching the baby monitor go quieter and then remarking “I think shes asleep.” It is always at that precise moment she will know you have said this and scream the house down.
So we returned to the main stage for one of Bev’s faves, African Headcharge and Isla was awoken by the smell of Goan fish curry. Now Isla has developed a taste for hot food, and the fish curry was no exception, however watching her go red and gasp for air shouldn’t be as funny to watch as it is, even though she wants more and clearly likes it. Please don’t tell social services.
Isla resumed her standing leaning against me to see the stage and after the first song she heard I said “Clap Isla!” (another new skill). To her amazement my instruction didn’t just work for her, but for the whole crowd. Yes, Daddy had instructed the whole crowd to clap, and they had done so, just for a moment I was right up there with Jesus. Well that’s what the look on her face said anyway. Pretty soon, after each song, and an Isla wiggly bum dance she clapped along with everyone else. I gotta be honest, I’d pretty much stopped seeing the Big Chill at that point and was absorbing it all through her eyes, either it was love the cider, but she was the most beautiful thing on site that day, and the interest and smiles of various festival goers confirmed this in my eyes. All through the day we had a selection of people come up and comment on her, and strangely, most of these people were battered (but lovely), and not just others with babies or young kids.
So as the rain set in we met up with Sheila (Miss Guy did) and Mach V, who I was particularly pleased to meet, because he provided the music for Isla's birth, although he did look and sound a little worse for wear. I was finally vindicated in my choice of pram items using the shade tent and the umbrella to protect us from the rain as Camille did her set, and Sheila entertained Isla. Unfortunately the ghostly wailings of Camille really did scare my poor little girl and as the rain lifted we decided to head back to the car and home before we had to navigate the pram in the dark (although I did actually jury rig some headlights for the pram!). My only word of warning is going down a muddy hill with a pram requires the footing of a mountain goat, which luckily I have through years of living in the highlands and a low centre of gravity caused by gracious living.
After putting a very tired little girl to sleep, Mrs P and I reflected on the day and taking a baby to the Big Chill. After much discussion we concluded that camping wouldn’t be too much of a problem and practically it was all possible, but what really amazed us was just how resilient she was. A festival is a pretty amazing thing to an adult, it must be mind blowing to a baby, and even though a couple of times she clung to me out of fear (usually when there were lots of very loud people around), overall she clearly loved it, and learnt to clap at the end of songs and do a wiggly bum dance. That just goes to show if you have faith in your kids’ ability usually they will come shining through and surprise you in amazing ways. Our advice is do it, take your baby, just prepare to be amazed, tired, scared for them, and fall in love with them all over again for brand new reasons, and see things you take for granted at a festival in a whole new light.
So will we be taking Isla next year, for the whole weekend? Well if I’m honest, no. Gran will be staying and looking after her for the weekend. After all Mum and Dad have to have some fun as well sometimes. Maybe when she’s 3.
Written: 19th Aug, 08
Read: 1384 times
