efore we left, George’s mum made me swear not to let our six-year-old-son out of my sight for the duration of the festival. Even as I was nodding in agreement I knew keep this promise would be almost impossible – but I didn’t reckon on breaking it quite so spectacularly or, as things turned out, so willingly. Before I’d even finished putting our tent up on the festival site, George was making new friends with kids a few pitches down. Fifteen minutes later, he came and asked me, his face…
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