(This post originally appeared in the Huffington Post)
‘Look, Daddy – that one’s on ketamine!’
Some guys encourage their kids to recognise sports cars. I showed mine how to spot the drug casualty. It seems to have hadthedesired effect on The Girl. While her peers are stumbling through the transition from Inbetweeners to Skinsby tripping the white fantastic, to her it’s the frankly banal equation: Father thinks drugs are kinda cool = so not cool.
I’d like to point out I didn’t thrust her from the cradle to the rave without giving it careful thought, but I can’t. I fathered her when I was stupidly young and took her to her first festival because that’s where I was going that weekend. I sat her on my knee in a field, she started bouncing, and that was that. I’ve been taking her along to festivals ever since, and she’s hands down the coolest, most sociable girl you’ll ever meet. Plus she has the most excellent iPod playlist any 16-year-old can boast of. I’m having that. Continue reading “Why Festivals Make the Best Crèches”