hay hay hay

The lawn is no longer green. Well, there's some green left, but it's not in the majority. The majority is now a sickly hay colour. Patches of green hold out here and there, but their numbers dwindle and every one lost is another in the ranks of the sickly hay. This isn't a permanent condition - rain will eventually bring the green back. Not in time for my folks and I to appreciate it, but perhaps that's for the best. It's easy to project meaning into the decline of the lawn, toy with the idea that it's mourning the loss of such fantastic caretakers. But anthropomorphising grass is silly, and its decline is due to drought and the hosepipe ban.

Hyde Park's grass is not fairing much better, and I'm sure that it's not mourning anything. Of course, with the partygoers of the O2 Wireless festival trampling it, it may be a case of self-pity. I wouldn't begrudge it a bit of self-pity. I've indulged in self-pity myself and while it lead to dehydration I never changed colour. Unless it was to turn a little green.

Yesterday was a cocktail of beer, music, food, more beer, pubs, festivals and surprises. I played my part in punishing the grass at Hyde Park. Ru, academic son and music raconteur, provided several comp passes to the 'chill out' day of the Wireless Festival. Which was wicked. Many people took a half-day and we all met at the Star in Belgravia to drink beer before, and this is a technical term, "rocking out".

Moments of pure adrenaline-laced joy spiked a general, sustained note of well-being throughout the day. Seeing Kate jam brilliantly on a massive stage to a loving crowd of 30,000, then - and I had no idea they were there - going to see The Fun Lovin' Criminals and bouncing like a lunatic to Scooby Snacks and realising that Huey really is the most incredibly cool individual ever. Except for Indiana Jones. Then we went on a crazy carny ride and managed not to be sick and, had it not been for a lack of cash, would have gone right back on again. We also drank lots of beer. And Ru's mate played some chilled out tunes that I almost heard over the roar coming from the Fun Lovin' Criminals' tent.

So it was all quite groovy really. I paused to pity the grass once. But then I thought of all the free beer that was getting spilled on it. Lucky, lucky grass - no pity for you.

It was such a good party that alien robots came to see what all the fuss was aboutHuey, the Fun Lovin' Criminal

Kate, looking tiny on the big stage

Kate, looking enormous on the big screen

Academic daddy with his boys. My, they've grown.