The sun felt good on my face. I swear being in Norway turns you into a reptile. It is said a great migration takes place every year, from the far reaches of the north to what is collectively known as “The South”. They fly en masse and litter beaches, turning them white with their upturned bellies - a majestic sight. I always wondered where ducks went in winter, I guess they just swapped places with Norwegians.
It was pretty empty. Most people were back at the campsite sleeping but Theo and I wanted to get back as quickly as possible. I don’t know why, we didn’t even have an artist we particularly wanted to see. We scavenged some sun beds, stocked up on some good old Radagast and dragged ourselves to the shade of a nearby pipe.
I was surprisingly relaxed about the previous night. I guess part of me was still slightly embarrassed, another part of me just wrote it off as some kind of feverish dream, but maybe I was just scared of believing that something could come out of it and I wanted to spare myself the disappointment as early as possible. I was always pro-choice.