September 2nd, 2013
After a week of deciphering his scribbled notes, digesting what he saw, and sweating out the booze, DiS’ editor ponders why this year’s Reading Festival felt a little different. Plus he shares his personal highlights and two favourite discoveries.
By 18:43 on Sunday, the fists that were once punching the air are beginning to suffer from a form of erectile dysfunction. The circle pits still rage but hearts are beginning to sink as the sun s shadow elongates. I’ve been here - quite literally,
right here, right now - thirteen times before, and those ‘end of summer’ thoughts never become any easier to drink away. Tomorrow, light green tent footprints, poorly bin-bagged detritus and the clank of stages being dismantled will be all that’s left of Reading 2013. A small tent-town will be packed up for another year. But at this very moment,