Overheard At A Festival.

They sat Cross-legged on a black bin bag outside a wigwam tent. One, who was blonde, twisted the others hair, the recipient, a redhead, with her neck arched back and eyes closed, swayed gently and softly moaned. A ray of sun caught them in its early morning glow, last nights downpour glistened like glass beads all around them. I watched from a seat under our Motor home’s awning. They talked about blokes and bands, but still kept the tone smooth, hushed and gentle; perfect for the time of day. I surmised, they had been childhood friends by the way they were together.

Musicians warmed up on the distant stage, ‘one two one two click, click, click.’ Across the airwaves. Waking late-night revellers from their stupor bought on by excess.

The smell of bacon wafted across the camp. A clanking of pans, loud yawning and noisy stretches broke the quiet. It wasn’t long until groups of pyjama clad girlie’s in Wellington boots linked arms giggling as they picked their way to the bank of smelly toilets; still full from yesterday. Towel draped couples made their way to showers and dogs cocked legs against tent poles and wheels.

I felt the mood alter slightly between the two, my people watching mode is sensitive to the slightest change. Now beaded and braided the red-head snatched and shook the plaits, that made the beads tap, she giggled and thanked her friend. The blonde girl plucked two cereal bars from the pocket of a coat and offered it up for breakfast. On taking the bar she swigged water and wiped the bottle with her palm. As she passed it across she said in a clear voice. “I sell my poo on the dark web.” Blondie paused, (one of those audible teeth sucking pauses) tilted her head to stare in the others face. Taken aback, I craned my neck, strained so as not to miss a thing. “Did you hear me?” she said flicking out with her hand. “I sell my poo on the dark web.” I wanted to tell you ages ago … “It pays for medicinal cannabis and henna … just once in a while.” Blondie nodded as she listened, then jerked, her hands froze mid-roll, tobacco fluttered across her Bedouin birthing pants, she swiped angrily with her palm at the debris. Standing up, jangled her ankle bracelets as she kicked her bare feet. “For fuck sake Mia, is that what’s in the cool-box? You’re sick.” Both walked in the direction of the music. I watched until flamboyant hand gestures were all that was left to see.

The Husband burped from the bedroom a morning greeting. Somehow my watching was more disturbed by that … than the notes I penned in my notebook. ‘Overheard at a festival.’ reading it back, I wonder if someone nearby could be writing about me; earwiging, and The Husband’s morning greeting …

The blue-haired lady is how I imagine myself being, all modern, slim, elegant and carefree (dreaming). All photos are by way of Pixabay and from WordPress’s free photo library.

Was it only me who knew or knows nothing of `The dark web?’ What is the most random thing you have overheard? Answers in the comments, please. I can’t wait to read. 😆😅

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Overheard At A Festival.