With the sun shining down, the tent heating up, and the lighting all out of whack, getting ready in a tent could well be the most horrendous experience I have had — in the last month at least.
Time’s running out. Sam and I decided dot on 10 o’clock this morning (Saturday) the only way the rest of the day could be tolerated is if we returned to our humble abodes for a quick shower.
We were sweaty, tired, and a little bit smelly as we trudged to the bus which would take us to town — a bus packed with equally sweaty, tired, and smelly festival-goers.
Two hours later and we’re back, showered, refreshed, and ready to go; only I had forgotten to take my makeup with me, and as such now faced the torturous process of attempting my routine with the heat of the sun right in my face, and absolutely shambolic lighting.
After moving my tiny mirror around what felt like countless times, I eventually found an angle which enabled me to apply my layers of slap in a way that can only be described as bad.
Now I have a caked orange face, uneven eye liner, a sweaty brow, and sadness in my eyes.
Tent, you defeated me.
Until next time.