Oh, I feel so guilty....

..because one or two things have happened to me, that at the time, made me think, I have to blog this, my readers would be cross if they knew..amusing things happening to Sally and she doesn't blog them? Who does she think she is???

So..back to the S*gar Hill Festival..Saturday night, DC are on walkabout, there is not much happening to be honest, it is 1am, official close down is 2am, but I am so tired, and not feeling too well, that I state my intention to go to bed, and not walk about until 2am for no reason. I just can't. 'That's ok,' says DC, 'I'll hand over to Nights, and we'll both turn in.' Fine. We go to Production, and Night Security meets us, and a long handover over nothing in particular takes place. I know it will be detailed, cos DC is sitting back in a chair, feet on the table, Very Relaxed.

I know I am over tired, and thus likely to get emotional.. Just as I think we might be heading off, a certain PA comes in, he of Production fame, and he and DC engage in more conversation. I have now been meaning to go to bed for over half an hour, and I have had it. 'I'm going to bed,' I say, and off I go, cold and very tired, and walk back to the caravan, pleased that I was Assertive, and Didn't Wait.

I get to the caravan, intent on bed and sleep. One problem...I don't have the key. My heart sinks. I make a phone call. 'Hello!' says a cheery voice, 'I have the key, don't I?' 'Yes,' I say wearily. 'I am walking back now.'

I know that means he hasn't left Production yet, and it is almost too much for me to wait in the cold and dark. I am too tired to live. I lean against the caravan, and decide to sink onto the step and wait. I slide down onto the step...and miss, collapsing in an undignified heap on the cold earth, half under the caravan. I hurt myself. Then I start crying, out of simple self pity.

When DC turns up with the key and tried to open the door, he can't find me. ''I'm here,' says a muffled sobbing voice, and he looks under the caravan to find me, and pull me up into safety. While I am crying, it is fair to say he is laughing..trying to be sympathetic, but finding the sobbing, 'I tried to sit on the step and missed,' a trifle amusing.....

Oh, my warm, cosy bed has never felt so good (well, not since the last festival......)