The Cure are magical.

I felt a shove to my back, my feet slipped and then my body slapped into the thick sludge. We then trawled back to our camp, where I thought it was completely fine to attempt to get inside my tent. Looking like a wet and wild bear, my boyfriend successfully banned me from entering anything more than the porch of our grown-up tent. We then tried to peel the mud-caked leggings and my brown painted-on coat off drunken me, as I persisted on stating that I hated his friend for pushing me and that my boyfriend must fancy one of our mates.

I'm relieved to know that in four hours time I won't be possessed by an irrational form of myself, face down, burbling drunken rambles. I'm happy lay under my blanket watching The Cure's set from Reading, singing lovey lyrics to myself, looking forward to Will getting home.

The dreary rain does has the advantage of beautifully setting the tone for the acoustics of The Cure, it would have been amazing to have been there. Just for this song.