If you haven't read the first or second parts to this blog, go there immediately because I said so!

I don't recall having a sounder or more comfortable night's sleep than I did that night. Something had lulled me into a deep, relaxing sleep and I woke gently, curled up in a tiny ball, snug as a bug in a rug under my covers in my tent.

I yawned and stretched out luxuriously.

And screeched like a banshee.

The thing that had lulled me to sleep in the night had been rain.

Lots and lots of rain.

And, if you recall in the first part of my tale, my tent was missing one of its poles. So the end of the tent was draped over my bedding. Which had thoroughly saturated the end of my bed.

My screeching drew my friend and her BF out of their tent. They leaped to my assistance, rescuing my dripping gear from the tent, in the rain. We stuffed it all into the back seat of the car and I retired to the one dry section remaining in my tent, sitting disconsolately in the tent opening while the others sat in their tent and tried not to laugh at my predicament. I resigned myself to sleeping in wet bedding in the back seat of the car that night. A chiropractic nightmare.

We tried to scrounge together some breakfast, shielding the stove as best we could from the weather before deciding to give it all away and get into the car.

The sky was dark and heavy with clouds and the rain came in stinging waves, pushed by strong winds. The dusty, sheep-shit covered ground had become a quagmire. We could barely see out of the car windows, firstly because of the steam created by three people in a car filled with wet bedding and secondly because of the rain driving against them.

The previous night had also done nothing to sweeten the tempers of the other two and Easter eggs were exchanged with scarcely a word said.

To break the silence, I suggested putting on the radio or a tape, a suggestion greeted with much enthusiasm until we realised it would probably flatten the car battery.

So that was it. Three people, one car, a mound of wet bedding and rain as far as the eye could see.

Not a charming prospect, really.

Made even less charming when my friend suddenly decided that she and her boyfriend had to sort out their entire relationship right there in the front seat.

I don't even think they noticed me getting out of the car.

After the first five minutes, I couldn't possibly get any wetter, so I didn't pay much attention to the rain. My wallet and everything else was still in the car so I was faced with spending the entire day just walking the campsite. In the rain.

How very Hemmingway.

I stood and watched Nintendo junkies feed their addiction for a while and watched the skaters risk life and limb on the slick skate ramp. Most of the market had packed up to get away from the rain and I was left with either befriending the sheep on the other side of the fence or watch the lunatic fringe slide down the mudslide created in what was the natural amphitheatre.

Scrabble anyone?

It was late in the afternoon before I returned to the car. The rain had not abated for a moment and roadies were gamely tuning instruments onstage despite the weather. The ticket had read that the show would go on, rain, hail or shine and I was glad I wasn't the only one feeling pretty miserable.

As I walked to the car, my friend leaped out of the passenger seat. "Where have you been? I was so worried about you!"

I shot her a look that could freeze alcohol. I didn't say a word for fear I'd say something I'd regret later.

"Are you OK?"

"I'm going to get some dinner," I grated, "and then I'm going to watch the bands."

"We'll come with you!"

Oh goodie.

Just what I wanted.

I was cold. I was miserable. I was wet. It was all their fault. And now these two, who seemed to have decided that all was sweetness and light between them again, wanted to keep me company.

Justifiable homicide, your Honour.

The only thing that kept me from strangling them with my bare hands was the sure knowledge that Jeff Martin and the rest of The Tea Party would be onstage in a couple of hours and nothing short of hellfire raining from the skies was going to stop me from running out there and enjoying every delicious minute.

I stalked off to the dinner tents, leaving them scurrying along behind me.

Most of the fans were crammed in the food tents, watching the bands play down the hill, trying to get shelter and still enjoy the show. The stallholders had long since given up trying to shoo them out of the way and now simply worked around the thousands of bodies squeezed together. We managed to get fed by the Hare Krishnas and find a place where we could just see the stage over someone's shoulder and not get rained on. My friend sidled up to me. "Ummm, Tree? Are you sure you want to stay? The weather isn't going to let up..."

The look I gave her was answer enough.

She stayed quiet for the next two sets. Everclear was bombarded with beer cans by the brave souls who were too wet to care about standing in ankle-deep slush, being rained on. The band threatened to leave the stage. The crowd booed. The mood was turning nasty. They finished their set short and disappeared and the roadies for Primus appeared. Primus was scheduled to appear before The Tea Party, the headliners. My friend sidled up to me again. "Look, Tree, if we pack up and head off now, we could be home just after 1am. You could sleep in a nice warm bed tonight, rather than the car."

"Yeah, Tree," chimed in the BF. "We can beat the crowds home if we leave now!"

I counted to ten.

I counted to ten again.

I rounded on the pair of them and fixed them with a steely gaze. "The only reason I came to this miserable festival was to see The Tea Party. I'm not leaving before they play."

"But look at the weather..." my friend whined.

I took a deep breath. I reminded myself that everything I was thinking at that moment was extremely and messily illegal.

"Listen, you two can pack up and go the hell home for all I care. Just dump my gear at my apartment. I'll hitchhike home or something. But get this straight. I am staying here. The weather will clear up. And I will stand out there and I will watch The Tea Party play the best damn gig in the history of music. OK?"

"But why?" She whined again.

Before she could say another word, I screamed, "BECAUSE... I... SAID... SO!"

They blinked. Most of the people around us blinked. I cleared my throat, "Now, if you will excuse me..." and I walked out into the rain to get a good spot in the crowd.

Primus was playing the last songs of their set.

The rain began to abate.

They took their bows to rapturous applause.

The rain stopped entirely.

The roadies came onstage to set everything up.

A small hole appeared in the clouds.

By the time the band walked on, the sky was clear from horizon to horizon, filled with stars and a full moon illuminated the crowd.

I looked pointedly at my friend.

She nodded, wide-eyed. And I proceeded to groove my little heart out to one of the best damn gigs I've ever witnessed.

And the moral to this story? Ignore me at your peril, kids.

Because I said so.