Punk Rock 101

‘Can someone please save us from punk rock 101?’ – Bowling for soup – Punk Rock 101

It seemed an appropriate lyric given what I am up to this weekend. In 12 hours time, whilst you are in your nice, warm homes, with running water, tv, pc and whatever else you have, I will be in a tent, probably in the cold rain, trying to sleep. And paying £100 for the priviledge. Why again am I going to Leeds festival? Because Duncan wants to see Metallica and I want to see Linkin Park. My mum has already ridiculed the fact that we took two inflatable lilos off her to sleep on and that we will probably camp in the “quiet” camping area. Go ahead and laugh! But I need sleep, I don’t function well without it and I certainly can’t headbang to Metallica and bounce around to Blur without it. I can live without long hot showers for a few days and I can even cope with foul-smelling toilets for a few days, but sleep? No way. So we’ve picked the quiet area to avoid the 17 years on drugs and booze enjoying the last freedoms of the summer before school/work. If that makes me old, then I no longer care.

Wedding plans seem to be progressing without my input. This is what happens when you involve my mother in something. She offers to pay for catering, we send her menus and ask to choose. I stated what I would do if it were us, but stressed that it was entirely her choice, as she was paying. Apparently though she now wants to get my dad and grandad involved. Funny, if I’d wanted them involved I’d have asked. But I don’t want the help of someone who can’t even be bothered to send his only daughter a card of congratulations, someone who can’t even join in the happiness I feel and instead sounded less than enthusiased, like I was someone he barely knew. I know how this story ends, I’ve seen the script before and for once I want to scream at my mother, “You married him, you know what he’s like, why are you putting us both through this hell?!” She wants him to split the catering with her. Fair enough, although if she can’t afford it why did she offer when we’d made it clear we could manage, somehow, on our own? That’s neither here nor there now, because this is how it will continue: She bugs my dad and his fiancee for a few weeks over contribution. She gets nowhere and involves my grandad in the hope he’ll bug my dad as well. In the end my dad agrees, even though he probably can’t really afford it either (my mum still labours under the impression my dad has lots of money left from his saudi work 15 years ago. I know that as he was redundant for most of last year, that this is now pretty much gone, but you can’t tell her that.) So, they agree a menu and price. Me and Duncan stump up the deposit and let them know how much is left to pay. My mum and step-dad scrape together the money and cough up. My dad, who will have been drunk many, many, many times since being told, forgets. Venue are left unpaid, and we arrive back from Seychelles/South Africa to have to sort this out.

Of course, that’s unfair. They could surprise me. They could turn it into a competition neither of them can afford to see who loves me more. And all we wanted was a quiet wedding without any hassle and any family arguments. Fat chance. My mum has taken over and is determined that our reception be held in a hotel, despite being told that the food is twice the price per head. All this so one flipping aunt can saunter down from her room straight to the party. If that’s the idea, then damn it, it should be at my house! Why should I travel to my own reception?!

Why are we having a party? Why? Why? Why?

Anyway, I intend to forget it all and enjoy Leeds festival. It will be great to see Melissa again and I know she could do with some serious cheering up after the last month or so. I all can hope is that the weather forecasters have got it wrong again and there is no rain this weekend. I know, it’s bank holiday weekend which increases the chances somewhat, but fingers crossed!

Until there is a next time…

xx