I went to a festival alone and realised going with friends is foolish

It was a summer evening in the Lake District and I was at Kendal Calling Festival, listening to a jam session in a music tent, when the battered old piano became free. 

As a lifelong keyboard player, I asked if I could have a go, then promptly took my place. 

Soon after, the crowd and I were belting out Robbie Williams and Billy Joel over the embers of a small fire pit, and I had a sudden realisation. 

This was the best time I’d ever had at a festival. 

True, I didn’t have anyone I actually knew to share the moment with, because I was at this festival on my own, but it didn’t matter. I was enjoying myself. 

So much so, in fact, that I would thoroughly recommend going solo and will be doing only this from now on. 

As a musical comedian, I have attended my fair share of festivals, sometimes working, sometimes in the audience, and nearly always with friends. 

On this occasion in 2023, however, I had been invited to perform at Kendal Calling. 

I was given an artist’s pass for the weekend, and a plus one. 

All the friends I asked were busy, or already had weekend plans with their partners that didn’t involve getting muddy in a field. And as I’d broken up with my girlfriend at the start of the year, options were limited.

I didn’t want to invite a casual acquaintance to sleep in a tent with me for three days – so, in the end, I set off to the Lake District on my own. 

As an experienced performer, I didn’t need anyone to support me at the gig. But I did worry about the stigma of being alone at a festival. Comedians don’t tend to have a big entourage, but it’s rare for someone to be entirely on their own. 

Lugging my backpack and keyboard to the campsite entrance, those doubts became amplified: Was this a mistake? Were people going to stare? Would security laugh at this sad loner, this human personification of a microwave dinner for one? 

But it was only as I got to the main area that it finally hit me – no one cared that I was there by myself. 

Festivals are chaotic and everyone is doing something bizarre. Who’s going to judge someone’s social status if they’ve just had a dance-off in the rave tent with a stranger dressed as Deadpool? 

I was also quickly reminded of how friendly festival-goers are. One moment I’d be chatting to the person next to me about a folk singer, the next I was in the cinema tent discussing which food stall to go to next. 

And not once did anyone say anything about me being on my own. 

Sometimes people would split off, or I’d lose them, or I’d realise I was inadvertently third-wheeling a couple’s weekend away and slip off myself. But instead of feeling left out, I loved the freedom of dipping in and out of conversations. 

Plus, I’m a naturally introverted person, so I was relieved to find once my social battery was drained I had no obligation to make conversation – I could make my excuses and move on. 

The other benefit to going solo was that I actually saw everything I wanted to see. 

With a group there’s usually a lot more discussion about options and you’d have to make concessions about acts and activities. This time, on my own, I got to see them all. 

I had no arguments. I didn’t leave my favourite acts early because someone was hungry. And I was safe from humiliation, as no one I knew saw me dancing to an oom-pah band.

I had plenty of room in my tent and, near the end of the weekend, as I sat in the artists’ area listening to Delights’ 1989 on a loop, I even had the space to relax.

Festivals should be an escape, and sitting on a tatty sofa in a field with the sunny Lake District in front of me, I truly felt at ease. It was like meditation, except with more artisan pizza stalls. 

You don’t feel lonely when you’re surrounded by friendly people who want you to feel as happy as they do. And somehow, on your own, you feel part of something bigger and the experience is more memorable. 

That’s what playing that battered old piano taught me. When you’re on your own, the unexpected can happen, allowing you to do what you really enjoy. 

So I’ll be going to plenty more festivals alone, feeling more comfortable doing my own thing and starting up conversations with strangers than I ever had before.

It’ll mean time for reflection, and actually enjoying the festival without any group management. 

Is that selfish? Maybe. Will I enjoy it? Definitely. Is Deadpool man still dancing? We’ll never know. 

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk. 

Share your views in the comments below.