The Ned Wood Archive

And the rain came in from the wide blue yonder

Bruce Springsteen, Pyramid Stage, June 2009

Joe

The rain came suddenly and heavily. The music stopped. The conga stopped. Everyone disappeared. Now he can see that they all dashed into the Croissant Neuf tent. He follows them. There are people crushed together, dripping, some digging in their bags, trying to find waterproofs. Various musicians over to one side are drying off their instruments. He spots George and catches his eye. They both grin. It wasn’t a dream. Joe is feeling exhilarated. At this moment in time, life is as sweet as it has ever been. Joe looks around the tent, expecting to see the girl next to him. Or somewhere in the tent. He looks left and right. There’s no sign of her. He pushes through the crush in the tent to see where she is. She isn’t. She must be outside. He gets out his Berghaus trousers and puts them on, falling over in the process as he always does. To be honest, he’s already fairly wet. George tells him to hurry up and to stop wasting time. “Carpe Diem, Joe,” he says. “Seize your chance.”

Finally ready, Joe rushes out into the rain. Where would she be? He runs down towards the crossroads where he first saw her. Where would she have gone? He runs down the track past Greenpeace and then back up to the crossroads and along the railtrack towards the bottom of Penard Hill.

It’s fairly pointless. Apart from three or four isolated intrepid stragglers, there is no-one he recognises. He runs up to Henry’s Beard and Buddhafield. He runs into Green Futures and checks out Speakers Corner and Toad Hall. They’re all crowded with folk hiding from the rain, but he can’t see the person he’s looking for. She could be anywhere. He runs back to where he’d left George and squeezes in out of the rain. She’ll turn up, he tells himself. He just has to trust.

“You’ve got to move faster than that, Josephine,” George tells him.