Never, under any circumstances, think to yourself that it can't get any worse as the universe takes that as a challenge. British politics. I rest my case.

I only made it through Glasto until the first band started on the Pyramid stage, too close to our Kids' field camp, the volume was the last straw - well maybe the referendum result was the last straw, then the music started and I unravelled massively, publicly, shamefully - though I don't do shame, obviously, I've had therapy, but if I did do shame, this would be in there as one of the main events. And mud, lots of mud.

I didn't see a single act or do a single workshop. And I didn't feel any better when I got home and haven't since.

But I am going to try and do the gratitudes here, if nothing else, because I am one of the privileged and I need to keep that in mind. But I'm going for three and trying to get beyond the roof over my head.

I am grateful for:

1. The safe return of YD and SIL from the festie, and of my car which I abandoned there - I necked a fistful of valium and staggered home by train, all muddy and weepy amongst the commuters, but fuck 'em, they only had to put up with me for a few hours, I live with this shit day after day.

2. The care home looking after my ED with love and respect and real attention to her needs. She smiles a lot. I love her so much my heart bursts with it.

3. A dry bed to sleep in. I know, not much past 'a roof over my head' but these are challenging times. I was going to put The Samaritans, but thought it wasn't very cheerful, though it is true.

This was about two minutes walk from my tent, had I only stayed. It's fractured and beautiful and I've listened to it a thousand times already (OK, about five)



xxx