Miracles can happen...
Reading, 2008. My first time at this festival (I'd been to V 2006, but that's a bit different, and this time I was with my mates), and I'd made it to Sunday night without too much drama. Granted, the people camping next to us (friends of friends of friends don't make the best camping buddies) almost set our tent on fire Saturday night, but I'd had a sweet weekend.

Sunday night came and I left my metal fan friends to go to the second stage on my own. Conor Oberst, very good. The Last Shadow Puppets, excellent, no drama, looking forward to the Cribs. I want to celebrate making it to the end of the weekend in style.

So during the second-to-last Cribs song I decide to crowd-surf from 40-odd feet away from the stage. I'm not best suited, I'm six foot, and all knees and elbows. Sorry if you were one of the many I landed on on the way.

Anyway, karma meant that I lost my trainer. I was quite gutted, I'd made it so far and it's all gone to pot. Nevermind, I brought it on myself, I watched the last song from the side of the tent then as people were leaving thought I'd have a poke around in the rubbish to find it. People were being ushered out quickly, and a security guard came over as I was trying to retrace my journey to the front of crowd.

"Come on mate, we need to pack up, move out of the tent"

"But I've lost my shoe..." (Probably half-wailed in despair)

"You need to go NOW!"

Head down, I turned to leave, when something caught my eye.

On the ground.

In front of me.

MY TRAINER!

Kids, a lot of beautiful moments happen at festivals - love, great music. But nothing can compare to the sheer joy of knowing you don't have to spend the walk to the tent and a hungover coach journey to Bristol wearing one shoe.
(Dizzy Steinway, Fri 5 Jun 2009, 18:59, Reply)