I purchased an All Together Now ticket in 2018 ahead of my friends. Following the hype, I believed they’d all purchase one eventually but the inevitable happened and the tickets sold out.

I kept my head in the clouds for the next few months, assuming a solid plan would naturally fall into place.

The bank holiday weekend was almost on my doorstep when I realised that no one I tend to party with was available or interested, and my mood deflated. I geared up to sell my precious, publicly sought-after ticket.

For the next seven days I chewed the ear off co-workers, friends and family, rambling out my inner monologue of should I or shouldn’t I go. Despite initial support encouraging me to go alone, most people admitted they wouldn’t do it themselves. I thought I made my decision.

Being a college student in a long-term relationship, I don’t frequently venture out of my comfort zone by doing activities alone, as there is always someone there.

I visualised all the anxiety-inducing moments that were likely to spring up over the course of three days, whereby I’d be amidst a love-buzzing crowd with no one to turn to and share the experience. The moments I’d feel sick, hungry or tired, with no one guaranteed to go where I wanted to, constantly taking total responsibility for my own mood.

I perceived it all as a desperately unappealing scenario. Who knew that would end up being my favourite thing about this solo venture? After tossing and turning, changing my mind every hour, I contacted some old friends and found a group I could set up camp with. I packed and downloaded podcasts for the almost three-hour bus journey. I was ready to go.

First things first - you are not alone. I noticed it on the bus down and back, observing the two-by-two rows of people leaning away from each other with headphones on. Like myself, many were meeting friends down there, but I felt relieved that stressful situation number one wasn’t a painful everybody-is-looking-at-me situation at all. I noticed it during the chilled-out daytime at the Main Stage when people sat alone eating their food and enjoying the music. I noticed it at Blindboy’s interview Sunday morning when those whose friends didn’t want to get up early sat on their own, happy to do so with the best view from the front. Once you accept that you’re on your own, the fun begins, and the small stuff doesn’t matter anymore.

Secondly, the freedom that comes with the independence is underrated. I’ve been to multiple day festivals and eight camping. This was my favourite one. I never realised how much I sacrificed previous years by waiting in the campsite for people to finish drinking or going where the crowd goes to the most overpacked and least enjoyable tent.

I’ve pressured myself and felt obliged to stay up later than I wanted to, missing out on the events and panel discussions I had hoped to attend in the mornings. This time, everything was at my own pace. When I wanted to see something that my camp wasn’t bothered with, I’d set off alone and reconnect with them later, sometimes failing to do so when the atmosphere carried me elsewhere. I didn’t worry about how I’d find people or what I could be missing out on.

Rather than wait around for other sources of life in the mornings, I got up, ate breakfast and went for a shower, taking my time while charging my phone dead. If I wanted food, I got some. If I wanted to chill out, I did. If I wasn’t enjoying an act, I left. Without feeling tied down, my sense of adventure emerged stronger than ever before and I explored every corner of the festival, something I failed to do in other years when no one wanted to do the same. I discovered a newfound love for the freedom to do as I pleased.

The reconnecting bit - my favourite. I spent time with people I knew before, as well as their friends, making new ones myself while growing friendships that were practically no longer existent due to neglect. I met others along the way and could always freely move around without having to report to a group on my whereabouts. There was almost always somebody different for everything I wanted to go to, so my experiences always varied, my ears always filled with amazing music that I’ve taken home with me. Immersed in various tastes and interests, I never felt happier to go with the flow.

I didn’t run out of supplies - snacks, drinks, portable phone chargers, wipes, toothpaste, shower supplies, toilet roll, layers, the list goes on. With no one else to rely on to remember what I’ll need, I thoroughly crossed off my checklist and lived a weekend of comfort (as far as one can do in a paper-thin tent). Speaking of the tent, having my own space away from the hectic buzz outside was a mood saver. Sleeping alone was a factor I initially dreaded, but now I see the pros outweigh the cons. Waking up, stretching out and changing my clothes without standing on a pair of legs or elbowing someone in the face was a nice change.

Before I went, I felt more mentally alone than physically. I did solidify a group to set up base with and gathered phone numbers for those I potentially hoped to reconnect with over the weekend. I wasn’t heading down completely blind, but if the scenario came about, I feel this experience has given me the courage to go totally solo.

I chose to go because I wanted to enjoy a great weekend, but beneath the surface I needed to do it to prove to myself that I could. We all need to push ourselves out of our comfort zones and do things we fear, whatever that entails. I know that I can look after myself, do things alone and enjoy it without anyone to fall back on.

I have this newfound branch of confidence where I enjoy my own company and believe others will too. Situations and people will pleasantly surprise you if you let them unfold.