I had the police looking for me in 7 counties
I was in care as a child, and due to me being a "ward of court" this legally had to continue until I was 18 instead of the normal 16.

So that I didn't have to stay in the childrens home, I lived in a small flat with a social worker living above me and keeping an eye on me. It was pretty cushty - especially as they paid my rent, severely subsidised my electricity ( I paid about 50p a week) and gave me £90 a week to live off.

I decided that I wanted to go to the Reading Festival. I asked my social worker if I could, who refused point blank, about which I was pretty naffed. At this point I was a bit of a stoner (what do you expect with a childrens home in Totnes?) but had never tried anything stronger than a bit of weed.

I went to a local pub who served me, and met up with my dealer and a few of his mates. It so happened that they were about to hitch down to the Camelford festie. It also so happened that I decided to try acid for the first time.

The combination of these two things meant that I decided to hitch down with them all. Apart from a bizarre interlude where a couple of us strode into Paignton zoo without paying and tried to talk to the elephant, the journey was fairly uneventful.

The festival was supposed to last for the weekend but it went on for a week. I enjoyed myself thoroughly, even though the tent we were all supposed to be kipping in was nicked and we had to hunt around for places to lay our heads. I went into the village one day and took my weeks money out twice from different cash machines. The third time I tried, the machine eat my card, which was fair enough I suppose.

When I got back, I found out that the police had been looking for me in seven counties between Devon and Reading. But not in Cornwall (where I now live). Hah!
(teasus likes tea, Wed 16 Aug 2006, 17:20, Reply)