But perhaps the biggest takeaway I have from all this is perhaps not to romanticise something that was for you 10 years ago. Let the dream die. Just because something is free doesn’t mean you have to take it. Some restraint, some peace and some adult time needed methinks. Parklife 2023 was just the worst. The absolute pits. Never again. My day started off beautifully: A sniffer dog came right over to me and I got pulled into a tent for a drugs search. Not sure if it needs to be said seen as though that I was attending Parklife as part of my job, but I did not have any drugs on my person. The naughtiest it was getting was my watermelon pomegranate Elf Bar. I didn’t bother explaining to the searchers the context of why I was there because I just thought I’d look more suspicious, nor did I mention the fact the sniffer dog might have been distracted by the whiffs of my two dogs who’d been on my lap about an hour ago. All day, scraps felt inevitable. There was just something nasty in the air yesterday. Last weekend, I spent two days at Mighty Hoopla in London and if attending Parklife has taught me anything it’s that I will never take for granted how much nicer queer spaces are. The love and euphoria surrounding Hoopla was worlds away from Parklife. Parklife 2023 was one of the worst festival experiences I’ve ever had, but I can’t blame the acts for that damning declaration. Self Esteem was amazing, Wu Tang Clan and Nas shut it down (not really my type of music, but it’s my best pal’s fave and she was having a hoot of a time) and seeing The 1975 was a religious experience as a huge fan who sheepishly admits Matty Healy is his problematic fave.