Many a Meredith faithful raised an eyebrow when the organisers of Melbourne’s most treasured festival announced they would – for the first time ever – be opening up the gates of the Nolan farm for a new event to be held in March – The inaugural Golden Plains Festival.

However, after offering us a lineup of ass-shakin proportions and much reassurance from Aunty Meredith that the same rules of worship “no fires, no glass and no dickheads” would apply to this event, all eyebrows were well and truly lowered and preparations began for the return journey.

Our slightly depleted convoy of Meredith addicts had planned to start the journey to GP at 8am, however, after sleep-ins, a visit to Bunning’s to purchase pergolas, a bottleshop run in Geelong and a toilet stop for those who started ‘celebrating’ a little too early, we found ourselves crawling through the gates at midday on the first day of the festival.

It was here that the first major difference between this festival and its Aunty struck us – there was no lineup to get in.  Devastating images of an empty Supernatural Amphitheatre filled our minds but were quickly dashed as it became clear that we were simply late.  That said the general crowd was smaller, giving us late-comers more room to set up camp (an activity I left to those who hadn’t started festivities in Geelong ).

All ready well and truly in the festival mood a bunch of us girls stumbled on down to the amphitheatre to check the first of the day’s offerings – Shooting at Unarmed Men. This group, who are made up primarily of members from Mcklusky and The Cheats, are developing quite the reputation for their live shows and unpredictable sound.  And let it be made clear that from the moment their lead singer, clad only in fluro green bike shorts, stepped out on stage until the moment he launched himself sweaty and manic into the crowd, unpredictable is what they proved to be.  A damn fine way to start the day.

Staying on the train of all things unpredictable, next up were the always excruciatingly enjoyable Ground Components.  Most of my crew squeezed front of stage, hot and boozed for this set, to watch Joe Mcguigan in fine manical form leading his boys in a set dominated by tracks off their debut release.  The passion with which the crowd screamed along with Joe highlighted just how far these boys have come in the last year alone.  They left us all sweaty and smiling slyly after rediscovering the joy of screaming “Die! Die! Die…. on the Living Room Floor” with a few thousand other people.

After a brief and blurry foray into the Nolan paddocks, with the more adventurous of our crew, I offered up a big thank-you to all the festival gods that of the few food stores that were included this year the Hare Krishna van made the cut (I mean is there really any such thing as too many Kofka Balls…Oh Yeah!). We welcomed dusk to the beautiful sounds of The Drones.  I stood, as always, in awe of this godamn amazing band, asking anyone who would listen, how this band has not yet blown the world away? I wait patiently for this day.

Wandering away to the blistering sounds of the Bellrays, it was back to the camp to discover our lovingly erected pergolas had been blown away and were now precariously spread between the roof of a Hylux and Combi.  Giving in to the elements we left the pergolas where they lay and continued to drink and listen to Dexter of avalanches fame do what he does best. The night was a blur and I awoke bleary eyed in a Combie van next to a different body to the one which I had fallen asleep next to.  I decided not to question this oddity and made my way down to the coffee line –  which might I add was worth the 45minute wait ( “Hello my name is Sarah and I am a caffeine addict”).

Darren Hanlon was the perfect way to start a day, where the Hair of the Dog seemed the only logical solution to a growing hangover.  In a world presently full of cock rock and distortion Darren Hanlon was amazingly enjoyable.  This man writes deliriously delightful peroquial tunes and knows how to capture a hung-over crowd with a great story.

Following this set our crew was divided as some decided to leave the festival early, taking with them, not only most of the girl power in the group but more importantly the best makeshift bed ever put together in the back of a Hylux. 

Next up – Eddie Current Suppression Ring! One of my favourite bands at the moment, there was no way that I couldn’t enjoy these guys.  Brendan, all seemingly unsure and uncomfortable teased the punters pacing around the stage, working us with crowd favorites Cold Ice-cream and Rose.  And just when we thought this was going to be the tamest ECSR set of the year he launched himself into the crowd. Bless the great Suppressions.

In dire need of some calm the remaining crew gathered on the hill, eskie in hand to listen to the oh-so amazing sounds of Gotye, who had (much to my enjoyment) included a string arrangement in his performance and made us all glow in that special way.

Not to be missed The Slits were next on my agenda and to the delight of my male company they kicked some punk ass and also allowed two enthusiastic topless young lasses to join them on stage for most of their set.

The rest of the festival was enjoyed from our now dismal looking campsite which had been destroyed by the unpredictable elements (predominantly high winds and drunk boys) and we wound down to the Avalanches - who still put on one of the best sets around.

As the freezing Monday dawn broke we pulled down the remainder of our campsite and wandered away from the first Golden Plains.  It had been a quiet weekend compared to most Meredith’s – less people, less food stalls, no Meredith Eyes.  However, the Meredith vibe and Nolan farm good will had prevailed.  We had been provided with some amazing performances, learnt a number of key lessons (namely that Combi van roofs are not designed to stand on, if you pay $2 for a kite chances are it wont fly but just annoy other campers as it is dragged along the ground through their campsite, you can fit 6 people in the back of a station wagon and sleeping in tents is for festival stooges.)

Golden Plains was good.  It is still just a toddler (or perhaps a drunk teenager) finding its feet – but it has the right ingredients.  And if it survives the year…we’ll be back in 2008 – on time and with a Kite that fly’s.