Reading Festival 2025 – the last dance?

There’s something about Reading Festival that always feels like summer’s exclamation mark. You roll up, muddy boots (or in my case, converse that will never recover), and you’re instantly swept up into a mix of chaos, excitement and the unmistakable smell of festival life.

This year, I had weekend tickets but just did Friday and Saturday – a slightly more grown-up festival plan. I've never been a camper, I can't think of anything worse than five days of mud (or in this year's case dust) and four nights surviving off warm beer and pot noodles. So in true Hannah fashion, I stayed at a luxurious boutique townhouse hotel – The Roseate Reading. It gave me a space to escape the noise and people, and allowed me to recuperate so I could still function like a semi-normal human being.

The highlights for me were:

• Good Neighbours, they absolutely smashed it – that infectious energy where you can’t stop singing their songs after the set.

• And Rudimental was one of those sets where you look around at strangers, arms in the air, and realise you’re all part of one big, sweaty, glitter-covered family.

But here’s the thing, for the first time, Reading felt a little… final. Maybe it’s nostalgia talking, but as I danced my way through the weekend, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’ve done my lap of honour with this festival. I’ve been coming for years, and the memories are stitched into me – discovering new artists, epic sets from favourite bands, the questionable toilets and of course friendships made.

One of the things I’ve always loved about Reading is how it blurs the lines between age, background, and where you’ve come from. The music has this magic of bringing strangers together into the same moment. This year I found myself spending time with not one but two Hannahs! We bonded instantly over our shared love of artists, swapping stories, trading laughs and somehow creating this little pocket of friendship that felt like it had been there forever. That’s the magic of festivals for me: you show up for the bands, but it’s often the unexpected connections – across generations, across all walks of life – that become the memories you carry home.

As a last little keepsake, I grabbed myself a 2025 R&L hoody on the first day (tip: things sell out fast, don't wait until the end). It feels like a memory stitched in cotton – a final souvenir from an era that shaped my summers.

So here’s my question: how do you know when you’re festivaled out? 

Is it when the hangovers last longer than the weekend? When you start checking the weather forecast more than the line-up? Or maybe, like me, you just know – that perfect blend of nostalgia and satisfaction, a quiet voice saying, that’s enough now.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ll always love the chaos, the music, the madness of festivals. But maybe Reading 2025 was my bow-out moment. And honestly, I’m good with that.