After two years away, Electric Picnic returned to the festival calendar this past weekend.
As always, it made for a truly great few days in a field in County Laois.
But now it's over.
And we are dead. (And soggy.)
We have the memories, and they are epic - but right now, all of you beautiful Electric Picnic folk are undoubtedly broken people with big weary heads on you.
Here's what you've likely been going through...
That moment when you finally get the key in your front door when you get home from Electric Picnic and place all your crap in some heap that 'future you' will deal with. Ahhh! You've made it, pat yourself on the back. You can charge your phone without having to stress about it! You don't have to spend another night in a damp tent! No more worrying about trench foot or dealing with portaloos on Day 3! The relief is huge. And if you drove all your mates home, damn well get someone to make you a cup of tea.
Relief has passed and there's nothing like the familiarity of home to remind you just how rubbish you are feeling. Your limbs ache from dancing, you may have caught a cold thanks to your not-so-waterproof rain jacket, and your liver? Well, your liver isn't even speaking to you anymore.
Is there a more glorious feeling in the world than walking into your own bathroom post-festival? It becomes a magical room that not only contains a legit toilet that doesn't make you want to die inside, but an actual place to wash, with nobody banging on the door to tell you to hurry up. (Well, you may have that if you live with fellow Picnickers.) Either way, the feeling of being clean for the first time in three days is almost as good as phase five.
Okay: so you've washed and you're feeling slightly human again. However, suddenly menial tasks become equivalent to scaling Everest. Was it a glass of water or a cup of tea you went into the kitchen for? Why are you even in the kitchen?? What's happening??! You get the idea.
Food, glorious food! If you're anything like us, you probably spent most of your journey home fantasising and planning what would be your post-picnic meal. McDonald's or Domino's? Both.....? Inevitably, your eyes will be too big for your belly and you will order enough food to feed a small army. The only hindrance to you and heavenly grub is that brief but dreaded moment with the delivery man. Stop judging us, delivery man.
6. The Fear
You are fed and watered and had your post-food snooze in front of the telly. Suddenly, you're jolted into reality, as your old friend The Fear shows up reminding you that you have work tomorrow. This will involve interactions with fellow humans, using your mind and all the usual crap that comes with being an employee. Panic sets in, as you worry how your delicate body can handle such a mammoth task. But listen, you'll be grand! Once again, that's a problem for 'future you' - and besides, you still have that turbulent night's sleep to get through yet.
Mind one another out there, fellow Picnickers. We're all going to be alright... eventually.