Flagtastic.

So, it turns out that flags are like buses.

The whole time I've been going to the festival, I've never felt the need to have a flag to mark my tent. This year, I did. No, I don't know why either. Perhaps it's because it's the last one until 2013, and I need to get all the flag-waving out of my system. Maybe because it's that I'm less than sure of my ability to remember what my tent looks like, or something, I don't know.

I am now the proud owner of a very gurly pirate flag, and a three metre flag pole:

The pink says: I hope we can be friends.
The skull means: I'm more than capable of punching your teeth down your throat if you annoy me.

Returning from work today, I was more than a little surprised to find a letter from Brothers cider, telling me I had won a festival pack. Aside from the fact I haven't won anything since I was about 8 (a Masters of the Universe single, in a spot the difference competition), I didn't even remembering entering a competition in the first place.

Amongst the goodies were a cd, rather fetching wristband, a Lampard (no, he's a footballer - a laminated thing you wear around your neck), a voucher for a free pint, and this:

This means: I like cider.

So, now, having never owned a single flag, I own two and I'm left worrying about whether I shall be claiming my patch of land in the name of the cider, or for the pirate grrrlz.

Honestly, with such massive decisions to make, its a wonder I don't crack with the strain....

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