This story starts like the beginning of a cruddy reality TV show, like a Made in Chelsea-esque special.
It was the last day of the Splendour in the Grass music festival and myself and seven friends had spent the past five days camping in a very hot, humid and dripping tent.
We’d gone to high school together and had known each other for around eight years. However having just come back from another trip, myself and my good friend Rosie* were getting on each other’s nerves.
We’d just gone from sharing a small Airbnb apartment together to sharing a tent with five other people.
It was a year when it was constantly raining and the festival was a mud bath, the tent would leak water and things were just a bit gross, dirty and soggy.
Gradually throughout the festival we butted heads. They were petty things, in hindsight, cringe-inducing things. Things like who could use whose battery packs (a rare commodity at music festivals), which acts we were going to see, the placement of muddy gumboots, and whose turn it was to zip up the tent.
