If I read, once more in the papers, or more specifically in magazines, or hear once more, on telly about what a "disappointment", "wash out" or "write off" the eclipse was. About how it was "obscured by cloud," (rather than crowd) how all the festivals were wastes of spaces because "no one was there". Instead of getting annoyed, I shall just smile fondly to myself and to all the others who were there experiencing it, and remember just how shit we thought it was. When you hear people harping on about quantity rather than quality you always know they are barking up the wrong tree. We all knew in the Cabbaged café what was going down. And it wasn't a "write off." Yes we got soaking wet. Yes we had to put up with clueless security trying to turn us off, not let us light fires and telling us to go to bed when all we wanted to do, and were going to do was party. Because we all knew that we were at a festival and despite the rain, the cloud, the reduced numbers, we were going to party, have a fucking good crack, meet new people and spread the vibe. And we did.
And if I watch one more recorded live coverage of the eclipse I shall weep. Big Breakfast managed to severely destroy the magic of it all by having some stupid girly choir singing "Night Fever, night fever," in loud, untrained voices all over the majesty of it's admittedly cloudy but still awe inspiring cosmic magnificence. Followed by "Here comes the sun," when yes, you've guessed it, the sun came out. With Josie the presenter twittering about how it was the most amazing experience, ever, yet none of the girls singing seemed to be even aware of what was occurring in the heavens above, only being interested in the cultural event of television and getting on it. TV didn't like the eclipse, because it looked crap on TV. You had to be there and see the sun and moon in context with nature that surrounded it. Feel the cold as darkness descended, appreciate how dramatic all those clouds made it look. Be with people, real living people, not the excuses for ones we see on TV. You see I am an eclipse convert. Pissed out of my head on copious amounts of Emily's vodka, the first time I've got drunk on vodka since my g(l)ory days 12 years ago, the eclipse held little allure in my imagination. "It's all fucking bollocks, I'm going to bed," I shouted repeatedly locked firmly in the alcohol come down train that was pulling into the destination station very rapidly. You know that feeling when all you want to do is crash out face down in a pool of (preferably your own) vomit. So twenty minutes before the event I was crashed in the tent. Emily was to wake me up at 11, but I knew that once I was asleep, no one would be able to wake me. However, I didn't allow for Emily's pissed up powers of persuasion, and got me up she did, and even my cynical snipeings were starting to dry up as I looked at the great black cloud creeping across the sky line, like another huge rain cloud. Except it was darkness. In the distance the horizon was a livid yellow wheal, as the darkness enveloped us. And yes it was cloudy, but did those clouds part at just the right time or not? And wasn't it eerie? And spectacular and quite the most weirdest cosmic occurrence you've ever witnessed? With all the sound systems turned off for the moment of totality, it felt spiritual in the truest sense. Not in the religious, God like one, but in the one that connected to everyone's ancient collective consciousness and tapped into the ancient that still dwells within us all. As the clouds cleared at the moment of totality and gave us a full, unhindered vision of all the majesty of the cosmos, you couldn't fail but to be deeply impressed. The cloud's actually served to work as a massive pair of viewing glasses, meaning we could all look straight at the sun without it blinding us. Well apart from Eldad, who sat there with an empty organic cornflake cereal packet over his head, with black plastic in the front to filter out the rays. All very well and good but he actually couldn't see fuck all.
Basically I think it was the same as with the way you live your life really. If you're someone who buys into societies perceptions of how it all is, you'll have been disappointed. If you are someone who is capable of making your own mind up about things, developing your own entertainment. If you thought, "Well, I'm somewhere that I have spent a lot of money and effort getting to, with a lot of other excellent like-minded people, experiencing a once in a life time event," like us and everyone I met in that magical week, you had a crack. For me, it was more than a crack, it was a life affirming experience that reminded the jaded part of myself that had started to overtake all my other selves, just what it's all about and how fucking great it is when it happens. What a great fucking life.