I have been meaning to write-up our ‘Cheesefields’ shenanigans for the past week or so but haven’t found the time until now. In case you are wondering ‘Cheesefields’ is an annual gathering come mini-festival event which two of my good friends have hosted for a number of years now.
Derived from the well-known ‘Creamfields’ festival, Cheesefields is a much smaller-scale back garden based event which we were very kindly added to the guest list for and invited to attend. Cheesefields may be small-scale but the planning and effort put into organising and planning said event takes many weeks and a whole lotta muscle to pull together.
From erecting marquees, building pallet garden furniture, fashioning washing machine drums into fire pits, making beds and rooms for nine people to sleep in comfort to stocking and stacking fridges and freezers with enough booze to sink a small cruise liner… Cheesefields is certainly an event that warrants recognition, hence the blog post.
A Word Of Warning
Before I write-up our ‘Cheesefields experience’ I would like to make a few things abundantly clear: Firstly there were no youngsters nor children involved within the event, my children were safe and sound in the care of my parents throughout the entirety of this event.
Secondly, I do not condone mindless drinking nor encourage it. However, I firmly believe that we all need to let our hair down from time to time.
Thirdly, I am for the most part a responsible adult and behave as so but there is the odd blue moon occasion when I let loose and this just so happened to be one of those.
Finally, please do not judge me wrongly for the contents of this post. I may be thirty-something and I may be a Mother but I can still pull off wearing pigtails and dungaree dresses whilst partying like an animal, I just very rarely get the chance to do so thus tend to go ‘all out’ when the opportunity arises…
Better Late Than Never
Whilst our arrival to Cheesefields may have been a little late in the day due to work commitments, the sun was still shining and there was plenty of time to party.
Having carried in my over night case and bags of burgers and booze I was fully committed and ready to party hard. A swift wash, a crafty change of clothes and a quick douse with deodorant and I was ready to rock and roll.
Breaking The Ice
There were nine of us all together; Ali, Duane, Neil, Kelly, Dan, Paul (nicknamed Shifter for whatever reason), Kym, Paul and myself. After a quick introduction and placing our car keys into a bowl by request conversation began flowing and I found myself in good company. Thankfully the keys in a bowl thing turned out to be a joke, it was certainly an ice breaker for conversation!
After making myself comfortable on a camping chair I was handed a mandatory ‘Hang Mans Blood’ which I desperately tried to drink but through sheer disgust had to hand to my husband to finish off.
I swiftly swapped my drink for a cocktail I had pre-planned, a Blue Lagoon poured from the pitcher which I had prepared earlier. Whilst Blue Lagoon may have been the cocktail of my choice it didn’t seem to be viewed as so by the others sat around the table as many likened it to ‘screen wash’. It didn’t take me too long therefore to catch up with the others as I found myself slurping the majority of the cocktail to ensure that it would only be me getting wasted not my cocktail efforts.
Burn Baby Burn
Having taken out her Beastly BBQ tools Ali gave Neil a licence to grill, he was busy sizzling his sausages whilst Duane was busy spinning the decks as Ali took charge in the kitchen preparing further drinks and such-like.
We had all been asked to bring a cocktail along to the party to share and share we did! Having already had a few Vinos prior to the party whilst at work and having eaten very little throughout the day I found myself feeling slightly woozy thus kicked back in the sun for a little R&R. Half an hour later and a rat a tat-tat to the sunglasses care of Duane, the resident DJ, I was back in the room.
Things Got Messy
By this point however things took a turn for the worst and having carefully navigated my way to the bathroom via shelves adorned with carefully crafted Lego models I found myself completely missing target and shamefully decorating their carpet with the contents of my stomach. Thankfully the husband came to the rescue once more and helped me back to my seat where I was then force-fed burgers and dry bread to help get me back on track.
Meanwhile the Cheesefields celebrations were in full flow, the atmosphere pulsing much like the tunes that kept the tent occupied by the party goers getting their groove on. An hour or so later I seemed to get a second wind and finally got my boogie on whilst taking the drink a little steadier.
The damage was already done though as my balance was off-key and I somehow found myself slipping down a rather large hole whilst taking glasses to the kitchen. Thankfully the alcohol dulled the pain, my dignity however was left in tatters.
Bump & Grind
Despite the fall and feeling rather red-faced (and black backsided) I resumed having fun making random silhouettes through the tent, checking out the decks and generally tooling about dancing because I don’t see nothing wrong with a little bump and grind before I took a moment to sit down on a sofa cushion where I then flaked out losing almost an hour to sleep.
Having had a Nana nap and having also consumed the best part of a tray of mars bar cake I then reverted back to ‘party animal mode’ and continuing to dance into the early hours.
Having burnt ourselves out with copious amounts of booze and banter we then headed bedwards. Despite being inebriated both Paul and I managed to get changed for bed where we then collapsed only to be joined moments later by a drunken Duane who set us both into fits of giggles as he koala hugged my husband before falling asleep.
We awoke in the early hours in search of solace pain relief. I then stirred hours later, grabbed a shower then took comfort in the kitchen where I nursed a hang over whilst chatting and tidying around for a few hours before being safe and soba enough to drive home. It was only once I arrived home that I became aware of the severe bruising on my backside thanks to my alcohol fuelled antics, with that and my aversion to bright light I was forced me to hit the hay early to begin recovery.
It took not just a day but almost four days in total to recover from Cheesefields. It was however an epically awesome night, certainly one to remember from the parts which I do remember and one that I hope to repeat annually for the foreseeable.
Thanks to Ali & Duane for having us, apologies once again for the bathroom carpet caper. Bring on Cheesefields 2018!