"...and the bells were ringing out.... for Chrismas day.....part 2

....Four months ago, late summer...

I found myself on my own, which was fine by me.

Lost in a sea of tents, I doubted very much that I would ever be able to find this one again, once I had left it.
Ever... oh well, I didn't worry about it too much.

I like being on my own, since it invariably means meeting new people. Strangers - or friends you just haven't met yet depending on your outlook.

When I say on my own I mean the 2 people I had come to the festival with.

They had disappeared somewhere.

I was alone in an area with 125,000 strangers, all partying, listening to bands, and getting royally wrecked drunk.

Welcome to Ireland!

I was very happy. And quite drunk.

'Probably a good time time for breakfast', I thought to myself.

Downing four cans of beer was only an introduction to the day.
Better have some solid food before I start drinking...

I sauntered (not staggered), over to the breakfast area.

I then happily parted with just enough money for a mortgage on a detached house. And in return I received 2 eggs 2 sausage's, and some bacon.

Screw it! - I'll re- mortgage, and have some beans and fried bread as well....

(no poncy tables at real rock festivals)

I sat down on dew sodden grass, working out how to eat my food on my crossed legs, while looking cool...
yeah, that didn't happen...

My plate suddenly tilted at a very precarious angle - and as I attempted to rescue my quickly rolling sausage from dew meadow oblivion, a doc martin boot appeared into my field of view.

Quickly acting as a foundation to my mortgage priced breakfast, the sausage subsidence was averted.
My fleeing sausage were safe.

I was very grateful for the doc marten to have lent it's support during my predicament.

I then noticed it was a very small doc marten boot.

I looked up to the owner of this pixie sized boot, and then my heart skipped a beat - just a few seconds before melting ...