British Summer Time | Hyde Park

As my new best friend said goodnight, my two days of dancing came to an end and I was left in awe among a crowd of screaming teenage girls – I couldn’t blame them, Taylor certainly put on a show. She spent the night telling us a story and although the narrative was bordering the cheddar cheese variety, I can forgive her seeing as though she turned up EARLY (never in five concerts and four festivals have I witnessed such punctuality from live artists) and sang every song from her new album, including some old favourites. Her awkward dancing has made her billions, which tells the world that being cool is overrated - it’s so much better to be nice, and handy to be talented (that’s where the big bucks are). I’ve seen her before and I’ll certainly be seeing her again, as nothing beats a feel good concert when you dance in public the same way you do in your bedroom. Plus I had Churro’s in my hand, a t-swizzle t-shirt in my bag and my guy standing next to me, what more could a girl want?

On stage beforehand were John Newman and Ellie Goulding. Newman’s dancing was questionable, I mean I’m all for ‘shaking it off’ and jumping until my feet are sore, but those dance moves looked like they were from a universe I’ve never been to before. I guess I can’t fault the guy’s effort at entertaining the crowd, plus his sound is so quirky and unique, it definitely captivated the tiny minions in my ears that shiver to beautiful sounds. Ellie Goulding was the same cutie pie as always, her songs are so catchy they get stuck in my head for days and I can’t help but admire her consistence. I’ve seen her multiple times, and she never disappoints. 

The previous night was spent watching The Who rock Hyde Park, showing us all that having stamina at seventy isn’t just a myth. If I could age like them that would be great, thank you. Not once did they leave the stage for a breather, or a costume change, instead they stayed with us the whole evening – producing song after song, each one as beautiful and perfectly timed as all the one’s before. I’ve never previously been a fan, now did I know any of the words, but I found myself dancing along in blissful happiness nonetheless. 

Warming the audience up for them were the Kaiser Chiefs and Paul Weller, The Chiefs were on fire. Ricky Wilson is officially my spirit animal, his electric enthusiasm and perfectly structured dance moves that whizz across the stage like a tiger, made me wish I was up there dancing alongside him – though my dance moves are killer and there would have been a risk of upstaging him, so I can understand why he didn’t ask. Paul Weller, who I’m ashamed to admit I have previously never heard of before, was entertaining to watch and pleasant on the ears but I couldn’t help wishing that the Kaiser Chief would suddenly run back on stage and join him – now that would have been magical! 

Despite overpriced beer and insanely huge queues, the festival was an incredible way to spend the weekend – particularly considering I found out that I’ll be graduating with a 2:1 on Friday morning. The timing could not have been more perfect.