Rhubarb, Rhubarb

Rhubarb Rhubarb

Just a few weeks ago I attended my first music festival. It was really a great way to start the New Year; hanging out with good friends, catching up with old ones, sweating more than I have in a whole year at the gym and dancing in the misty rain after the sun went down. Although there were perhaps a few things that are oh-so-2009 lurking around, I was able to really let my hair down (I put it up again once things got sweaty) and have a genuinely great time before heading back to work this week.

People are funny though, aren’t they? It’s not every day that you are grouped into a park with hundreds (perhaps thousands? I have terrible estimation skills) of other human beings and given the opportunity to observe. While joking around, piggy-back rides, posing for ridiculous photos and rolling in the grass (oh, and watching the bands) grasped priority for the day, I can’t say people-watching didn’t get a look in for me. When amongst the sweat-infused, mind-numbingly loud raucousness of various mosh pits over the two-day festival, I noticed two things that made me laugh: the ways in which people try to cover the fact they don’t know the lyrics and the shameless opportunities taken by the male species to grope. The latter is a given really, so do let me elaborate briefly on the former.

If I said I am not guilty of this I would be lying. The old “Rhubarb Rhubarb” trick worked a treat for me back in my school choir days, but I’m not so sure it served me very well in this instance. I’m lucky though, I have long hair so I can just hide my face a bit (in the style of ‘dancing’) and only pop up on a long “aaa” or ‘ayyyy’. Yes, yes, I know you’ve done it. But we all know you’re not a true fan unless you know every single word, right? Boy did I get some funny looks from the Indie kids. All I could do was laugh, especially because I could spot fellow Rhubarb-ers from a mile off. The ones that just kept their mouth shut (or deceptively busy with food or drink) could probably teach us a lesson, but where’s the fun in that?

 Happy Rhubarb-er spotting at your next festival.

Image credit: www.musicfeeds.com.au


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