I have just been to Reading Festival as a very nearly 30-year-old, and it was so much better than when I was 17.
In 2013, I was not yet 18, and attending my first ever festival, the mecca and absolute place to be for anyone who has just completed their AS-Levels – Reading Festival.
Did I care about the lineup? Of course not. This event was all about taking sepia photos on my Coolpix camera and meeting boys from local schools in the year above who could buy us booze.
I thought I was quite possibly the best-dressed person in attendance in my array of Primark crop tops and Hunter wellies (I think I got a bit confused by images of Kate Moss at Glastonbury and thought wellies were a must). And the whole experience was very formative for my little brain.
Of course, over a decade later, I looked at Reading and saw it very differently, as a chaotic mix of underage drinking and hormonal teenagers, and certainly not a place I’d be eager to attend again. Until I saw the lineup for 2025.
Hozier, Chappell Roan, and The Kooks all on one stage for one night! Sure, I had my preconceptions, but that lineup was surely too good to miss.
And it was so much better at 29 than it ever was at 17.
The first key and probably most important difference this time around is that I only attended for one day, for £125 instead of the weekend price of £325.
This meant that I avoided all the camping chaos and just got immediately stuck into the festival, as soon as I arrived.
Travelling from London cost £18.60 return from Paddington, on a very packed but speedy train to Reading station, which was just a 20-minute walk from the festival site. I was in by midday to watch the first act, Red Rum Club, who were most certainly my favourite hidden gem of the day.
In fact, with Caity Baiser’s secret act at the BBC Introducing Stage and The Kooks’ surprise rendition of Gangsta’s Paradise with Rebel Wilson, it was a jam-packed day of bangers.
Instead of attending the festival for the experience as I did in 2013 (I don’t believe I’d even heard of one of the 2013 headline acts, Biffy Clyro, when I attended), I was attending for the music.
Obviously, to hear the music is usually the main reason anyone wants to attend a festival, but for much of my early twenties, I’d constantly find myself at edgy festivals where I wouldn’t know a single act, but still have a great time treating it as just a party with my friends.
Screaming the lyrics to Good Luck Babe by Chappell or Too Sweet by Hozier with a massive crowd was euphoric and was arguably better than what I’d heard at the Pyramid Stage at Glastonbury, with far fewer people and a much more condensed area where popping to the loo won’t mean losing all your mates 20 minutes into the set.
Ahead of Hozier’s headline act, Chappell Roan performed to an enormous crowd as the main stage was flooded with what appeared to be every person at the festival.
Pink cowboy hats and tops with ‘The Giver’ emblazoned across them were inescapable, Chappell delivering tune after tune with unbelievable stage presence, which had the audience twisted around her little finger.
She dropped to her knees and head banged with her lead guitarist – from her all-female band – during her upbeat hits such as Hot To Go, and whispered into her mic in her more slow-tempo songs like Naked In Manhattan.
I love Hozier and I’ve seen him five times, but it was clear that Chappell was the real star of the show and, for many, the real headline act of the day.
A big plus of being the big age of 29 at a festival is that I am allowed to purchase alcohol and can happily sip away cold pints of lager and raspberry white claws for hours.
Of course, at 17, this was an entirely different story, when sipping a warm can of Magners was about as good as it was going to get, and I necked it down happily.
In fact, being able to afford things is a whole different ball game. Rather than surviving off a squashed brioche or a Special K red fruits cereal bar, I actually ate the food, and it was good. A lamb and chicken souvlaki set me back £14 but fuelled me for hours of dancing, so I’d say that was a pretty fair deal.
I had assumed the festival would be wall-to-wall teens – and don’t get me wrong, there were a lot of them – but the festival was also still packed with a range of ages.
Parents carted their kids around in wagons, and grey-haired people dodged mosh pits at the main stage. It was always a family-friendly festival, but perhaps my laser-focused perspective as a teen blocked this part out.
In my memory, the festival used to be wilder, with people lobbing pints of urine over the crowd, but I was delighted to say there was none of that this time. Perhaps the younger generation is more respectful, or maybe I just managed to dodge any rogue cups.
After screaming my lungs raw for most of the day, I left the festival as fireworks exploded after Hozier’s set, and I travelled back to London to sleep in my own bed.
I can’t think of a time when I’d been able to enjoy such high-quality acts, all in one spot, with barely any queuing, and way more space to dance without the risk of being squished by a crowd.
It was the perfect day in the sunshine, and I will be going back.
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