Festival season has well and truly arrived, and you couldn’t be more excited to spend your weekends listening to great music in muddy fields – when you actually manage to get tickets, that is.

But sometimes the festival Gods just aren’t on your side; the passes sell out too fast, your cash flow is lower than low, or your mum has put her foot down because it’s the sixth time this summer you’re dodging your Saturday job to spend two days doing nothing but watching your favourite bands.

We’ve all been there, but what makes matters worse is that you know ALL your mates will be going, and you’ll need to listen to them going on about what a great time they had for weeks after. Yep, festival FOMO is real, and these are its emotional stages…

1. Denial

That awkward moment when all your mates managed to bag tickets and you didn’t – but you’re totally FINE with it. FIIIIIIIINE.

2. Resentment

“How on Earth could Becky afford to go when she just went to Glastonbury and she doesn’t even have a weekend job?! Bet her parents bought her tickets, spoiled brat.”

3. Fear

What if your non-appearance taints your social status? What if your buds have loads of new in-jokes and ‘you had to be there’ moments afterwards? WHAT IF SOMEONE SNOGS THE GUY YOU REALLY FANCY AND YOU’RE NOT THERE TO STOP IT?! So many possible, terrible, ridiculous scenarios are running through your mind right now.

4. Sadness

It would have been such a great weekend with your friends. You’ve always wanted to see that headliner. Tiny tears are escaping from your eyes and you don’t know how to stop them.

5. Acceptance

It’s cool. You don’t actually like The 1975 anyway, so a real fan should benefit from being able to get tickets, rather than you standing miming the words to Somebody Else when you don’t really know them.

6. Relief

It’s chucking it down with rain on festival weekend and all your pals have had to buy emergency wellies and waterproofs. Meanwhile, you’ll be at home, sipping tea and binge-watching Glow on Netflix. Phew.

7. Boredom

Literally everyone is at the festival. You have nobody to hang with all weekend. You’re actually considering doing the food shop with your mum, even though you’re still mad at her for not letting you go. What is life?

8. Envy

WHY ARE THEIR INSTAGRAM STORIES ALL SO GOOD?! *Unfollows*

9. Annoyance

If you have to see one more message on the group chat about someone being lost and trying to make a meeting point you’ll scream. Ditto all the photos they’re sharing with each other – just make another group, guys.

10. Smugness

It’s all over Twitter that Bieber cancelled his set. That’s the main reason your girls were going. LOL.

11. Overwhelming happiness

Your friends are back! They still like you! Nobody snogged your non-boyfriend! Now when’s the next event you need to try and buy tickets for? You’re NOT missing out again.

Image: Getty

Parents are unruly creatures. When I was a teenager, I could never figure out how mine were going to feel about things. I could disappear into town all day with a fiver in my pocket from the age of 12, and they wouldn’t bat an eyelid. I could rent movies with an 18 certificate and they would gladly watch them with me. But then they could draw the line in what felt like utterly random places: I had to be home by midnight, and not a minute before. I wasn’t allowed go to music festivals. I couldn’t sleep over in a boy’s house, even if he was just a friend. The list goes on. Even today, I still struggle to understand why my parents let me do some things, but not others.

However, I have realised one pattern: most of the things my parents wouldn’t let me do, turned out to be pretty crappy anyway. Look, I’ll prove it. And if you assume I’m lying just to make you feel better, well… I’m not. Shh. 

Festivals

I wasn’t allowed to go to festivals until I was 18, and you better believe that I went mere days after turning the illustrious one-eight. My friends had already been going for years – some since they were 15 – and I was fed up of feeling left out of their stories. I was ready to tick everything off of my festival bucket list in three days: I was going to share a water with a minor celebrity. I was going to meet a mystery boy at a silent disco. I was going to have that kind of complicated festival hair that is woven with flowers and glitter. I was going to be IT. 

The reality? By day two I wished that my parents had extended the ban until 21, or possibly 30. I was too poor to buy the incredibly expensive (not to mention unhealthy) food at the festival, and was instead slowly giving myself scurvy by subsisting on Nutrigrain bars and lipgloss. Everything I owned was damp, especially my socks, which seemed incapable of drying and very capable of giving me trench foot. You can imagine my delight when, on the Sunday morning, my friend got an asthma attack and we all had to leave early. 

Staying out past midnight

Look, I’m an adult who can go to bed whenever she wants and doesn’t have to answer to anyone, and I still leave the party at midnight. Believe me, nothing good is going to happen after the witching hour.

Travelling

Another thing that you should wait until you have actual money to do. At 19, I backpacked through Spain, France, Amsterdam and Germany, where my budget was £38 a day, exactly. That’s including accommodation. Needless to say, I spent a fair amount of nights “sleeping under the stars” – which, believe me, is nowhere near as poetic and romantic as it sounds. 

Dating

Your parents think you’re too young to go on dates? I’ll let you in on a secret: dating is not good when you’re young. It’s not good when you’re old, it’s basically good never. Sure, going out to a restaurant or to the cinema or to a gallery with someone you really like is great fun, but ‘dating’ – as in, turning up at a place and eating food with a near stranger – can be absolute hell. You never know who is supposed to pay and you always forget the point of your story halfway through. Avoid this one for your entire teens, or your entire life if you can manage it. 

Going on holidays with your friend’s family

This is something that, when I was around 13, everyone started doing. Suddenly, families everywhere seemed to be extending free holidays – FREE! – to feckless pre-teens who did nothing to deserve it other than befriending their wretched spawn. I was incredibly jealous of all this free holiday action, especially because everyone who went on holidays together seemed to return with a stronger, more sisterly bond. 

My parents were cynical about the prospect of letting me go on holidays with other people’s families, partly because they were afraid of having to return the favour, and they were not the kind of people to give some rando teen a free holiday. 

However, time taught me that going away with your friend’s family is not all its cracked up to be. You’re basically expected to be a guest, 24/7. That means no arguing, doing exactly what your friend’s parents tell you to do, and going along with their weird family traditions and crap car games. Who wants that? You’re supposed to be on holiday. 

@Czaroline