Benicassim 3: It’s only Rock ‘n’ Roll But I Like It.

Needless to say, for the second night running, I had no sleep. Rip Van Winkle couldn’t have slept at the camp site. It would be a good place to bring patients out of comas. There is no gap between my tent, the two either side, and the three behind. The row opposite is barely a metre away. When I sneezed a disembodied voice said “Bless you!”

There Are No Secrets Here

Wired into my iPod, I laid awake until about 7.00. I did the concentration camp shower thing again, grabbed my razor and walked a couple of miles to Burger King for a shave.

I had two cups of coffee in there (and a shave) but swerved the food offering. I’m trying not to eat bread. Getting too fat. It’s too hot though, to stay off beer. Just to be clear, that’s the only reason. The heat. I can stay off beer. I didn’t have a drink for fifteen years. Right up until I left school.

I went down to the beach again and found some wifi and shade. The days are boring here to be honest. To stay any length of time in Benicassim you would need a nice apartment and be partial to lying on the beach. Not for me. I spent an hour tidying up my tablet. Y’know managing photographs, deleting unnecessary files and stuff. I’ve deleted my history so many times now, that I’ve forgotten who the Romans were.

Down At The Beach

I have noticed in Spain that the lights on pedestrian crossings are obeyed by the Spanish. By me too, in Barcelona or Madrid where it’s busy and where there are complicated junctions. But on this empty suburban street with no traffic in sight I just crossed. From somewhere two cops on bikes showed up and I got told off.

I came out of a sidestreet onto the main street and from here I couldn’t decide which way my fave air conditioned bar was. I went left. Fifty meters on, after a tobacconist with an ATM outside I realised I was going in the wrong direction. I did a one eighty and retraced my steps. When I got back to the tobacconist I could see money poking out of the ATM. There was no one in the immediate vicinity. I took the cash and counted it. €100. I sat on a bench right opposite the ATM waiting for the owner to return. And sat. And sat.

In the next hour or so, lots of people passed by and many used the ATM. There were only two who looked like candidates. I quizzed them both but it wasn’t them. Leaving out the exact amount, I told the tobacconist the story. He gave me a pen, paper and sellotape. I wrote a message, included my phone number and stuck it on the machine. I had, by now, hung around for almost two hours and it was just getting hotter. Off to the air conditioned bar. After freezing cold beer I got pizza in an Italian Restaurant called, bizarrely, “The Taj Mahal” What next? An Indian restaurant called “Luigi’s.”

Maybe There’s A French Bistro Called Golden Dragon

Anyway, back to the fest. The line up tonight was largely not to my taste. Lotsa Grime and Rap/Hip/Hop. The only band I wanted to see was The Kooks who did a great set. I got some beer and food. First a burger, which after one bite, went in the bin. Got some fried chicken and that went in the bin. Pizza ditto. Finally I got a fajita which, because of the spices, was edible. Just about. I looked around the merch stalls. Average price for a tee shirt was 45 Euros. No thanks. Outside the tattoo parlour I got talking to two well inked girls from Bath. They tried to talk me into my first tattoo and asked me which designs I liked. I told them the only one I would consider would be a simple rectangle with my name and address inside. At my age that could come in handy.

After the great atmosphere the previous evening, the vibe tonight wasn’t the same. The crowds were bigger and the average age had dropped even further. Also the behaviour, particularly of the British women under 25, left a little to be desired. I found them rude and selfish. And a bit manic. Not the easygoing types that normally attend festivals. Nostalgic for the 60s I stuck it out until about 2.00 then made my way to Stalag 11.

My First Festival. When Girls Were… Nice. Check Out The Admission

Calling for coffee at the bar outside the stage area, where it was quieter, I had to chuckle at the sign pictured below. Check out the last item offered.

Camping Essentials

I wasn’t expecting sleep. Never mind, last day tomorrow and a good line up.

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6 thoughts on “Benicassim 3: It’s only Rock ‘n’ Roll But I Like It.

  1. I love the way you tell your story, humor and all included. I, too, noticed how the pedestrian crossing lights are respected. I really liked that – especially since my son died in a pedestrian accident. But like you, I would prefer staying in a hotel. No “glamping” or “shamping” as you put it, for me. Thanks for sharing.


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