I’ve been going to Woodfordia since I was about five or six years old. It became a Christmas tradition to open our presents by torch light after waiting in the queue all day and setting up our campsite. It’s my home away from home.
I would always move house a lot as a kid, but Woodford was always a consistent place that I felt safe and free at. I’ve been to a lot of festivals in my lifetime, but none of them have pulled me back in with such a force of love and familiarity as Woodford does every year.
I always try to work out what pulls me back and I think it’s just everything about this place–the kofta balls from Govindas, the strangers that become friends each year, the music and the location are all significant factors but mostly I’m pulled in by me.
Throughout the rest of the year I’m busy studying, working and stressing about my life and I get very caught up in possessions, money and material things. But every year, as I drive in past the Woodfordia sign, I find that I once again become my truest self. I’m open, free and at peace with myself and my life. Woodford is my home, and I love it.