 However much you convince yourself that Homelands signals the start of summer, it’s invariably bloody freezing come 11pm, and there’s nothing more likely to bring you back to earth with a bump than walking the long walk to Winchester train station in a sweat-soaked T-shirt.
If you’re going to attempt to blag in to the festival by pretending to be a DJ, make sure there’s at least a passing resemblance. Last year a young man was refused on the door when an astute security man realized that the waifish, teenage white man standing in front of him was not Frankie Knuckles. What’s more, Frankie wasn’t even due to play. Should have let him in for sheer audacity.
Sounds bizarre, but girls should wear socks to avoid their ankles being covered in Alsation saliva on the way into the festival. Sniffer dogs can be found at most dance festivals these days.
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