Tomorrow I will be in attendance at Groovin the Moo in Maitland. As far as music festivals go, this one isn’t usually that spectacular, though if you possess the skill to selectively block out the noise of young, screaming girls dressed as if they belong on a dimly lit stage while 60 year-old, retired used car salesmen stuff $5 notes in their g-strings, it’s actually not that bad. The drunk, aggressive boyfriends of said amateur strippers are usually muscular and shirtless, which makes it easier to overlook the fact that most of the half-sentences they manage to slur whenever they aren’t busy urinating on the side of a port-a-loo are, in all likelihood, homophobic taunts.

Alcohol at these events has, over the years, evolved to a point where a can of bourbon and coke is not only mid-strength but also costs around $9. This evolution toward expensive, mid-strength alcohol has resulted in all sorts of grammatically challenged Facebook pages being created by the youth of the nation, each in their own way raging against society’s need to control and suppress any youthful desire to just have fun. I wager that reading through these angst-ridden Facebook rants, full of frustration and anger, is a cathartic experience for the many cleaners employed nation-wide to hose dried vomit from the side of trees and fences after each festival. I am glad to say I have never delivered one of these festival vomits, though an unfortunate Hilltop Hoods fan may have thrown their backpack and scarf directly below the spot on a fence where I may or may not have peed at Splendour ’07. My bad.

It’s rare that I’ll worry about what to wear at these type of events until the morning of, however I’ve been staring out the window today watching the trees dancing in the wind, and it seems to me the sensible option may be to rug up tomorrow. 2012 appears to be the year in which I’m coming to understand that my mother has been right about everything she has ever said, the most recent being that yes, in fact, I might actually ‘catch a chill’ if I go outside in weather like this. On that note, I’ve had to talk myself down off the “maybe I’ll just stay home, have some hot milo and watch a DVD” ledge several times today.

After however many years of festival attendance, tomorrow I will be trying something a little different. Tomorrow I will be driving. The thought of waiting at a train station in Maitland at night was enough to make that decision for me. Given that it is an ‘all ages’ event and the group of friends I’m going with, on average, would therefore be old enough to have given birth to and raised a great number of the people in attendance, the benefit of having a car close by will aid in successfully completing any emergency evacuation required when our energy levels inevitably drop.

Heaven knows what I’ll do with all the free time I’ll possess tomorrow, having not spent the entire day lining up for drinks and apprehensively visiting the repulsive port-a-loos once the seal has broken. You know what though? Perhaps I’ll catch a spot of music.