Julie Jay: I can't imagine anything worse than bringing my kids to a festival

This weekend, I had the joy of performing at Altogether Now, which was a lot of fun, even if most people sitting in the comedy tent during my set were there to get out of the requisite festival rain. Still, an audience is audience, whether awake or not, because the hustle never sleeps.

Several children pottered in and I ploughed through my set. Most of the material was fairly innocuous and festival children are pure chill. The odds of any of them lodging a formal complaint are slim because even though they’re only of primary school age, we already know these children are cool. It’s because their parents are cool: That’s how genetics work. Lenny Kravitz, Lisa Bonet, and Zoe Kravitz are prime examples. (Move over, Luke O’Neill, I do science now.)

There’s something about festival children that screams, ‘I’m going to make it in media.’ Watch their self-assuredness as they pull their little trailers and collect cans like ‘there’s gold in them thar hills’ because the bottle-return scheme has proved more lucrative for young children than first Holy Communions back in the heyday of the Irish pound, when a fiver actually meant something. These youngsters are motivated and moving in packs; it’s basically like a Gaeltacht course with less aimsir fháistineach and more aimsir báisteach.

Transition year is when these festival youths will truly shine. While the rest of the class will apply for work placements in their parents’ offices, festival children will be interning at NASA and shadowing Andrew Scott in the West End.

There’s confidence in festival children, and I would trust them with my life.

They are the future. Throughout secondary school, they are the ones who will straddle that tricky gulf between being hugely popular with peers while also having enough sense of self to see teachers as human beings and engage with them. That earns them a genuine fondness among staff, which is relayed with gusto at parent-teacher meetings. These meetings will be a piece of cake for teachers, as festival parents will keep it all in perspective and say things like, ‘as long as he’s happy’ and ‘he’s taking a year off after the Leaving to DJ’.

People debate whether or not festivals are the right place for children, but the truth is anything is enjoyable for children once they feel safe and heard on what is a unique and truly enriching adventure.

Yes, there will be people drinking and probably not in a position to operate heavy machinery, but, equally, I have never witnessed anything particularly worrying at a festival, and certainly nothing that could be compared to what occurs in many medium-sized towns during St Patrick’s Day celebrations.

The children tagging along to these things will be fine, but I wonder how much parents can truly enjoy the spoils of festivals and the liberation.

For me, the beauty of festivals lies in the child-free freedom; there is something exhilarating about throwing on the sparkly leggings and crossing the chasm into a world where nobody is asking you to wipe a bum; unless, of course, you’ve found yourself in a communal Portaloo with the new best friend you’ve just made in the toilet queue.

As such, the problem with bringing children to festivals is less about whether or not they will have fun and more about whether or not the parents will be able to kick back. Without a doubt, the child’s age is a factor here. While a baby will be a constant concern, primary school children are much more likely to enjoy the fruits of festivalling. Seeing my friends’ eight- and nine-year-old daughters happily jump in the mud and express a keen interest in checking out the Dolly Parton tribute act would warm the most cynical of cockles, even as we thank the Lord our own young ones are at home.

In fact, when one of these sisters announced that her favourite ice-cream flavour was pistachio, I knew, in that moment, that I could leave my wallet and keys in her tiny, capable hands for the duration of my day out, safe in the knowledge that not only could she mind them for me, but she could also show me how to send a payment link on Revolut upon my return.

All that being said, I’m not sure I will ever have the courage to bring my own children, minus a camper or some kind of converted van, because it’s always easier to entertain children when they are 30cm off the ground. And, of course, if you do bring the children, you won’t be raving in the woods like it’s 2007. However, on the plus side, you will have an excuse to retire to the camping area for a bit of ‘me time’ when the decibels get too high, and you’re starting to risk trench foot.

If anyone knows how to embrace sparkly leggings and have fun in the mud, it’s children, which is what makes them the perfect festival attendees. Still, as much as I like seeing other people’s children at festivals, I have to say ‘je ne regrette rien’ about leaving my two at home. The eleven-month-old is a bit young to appreciate the Prodigy, so we’ll give it another year.

In the meantime, if anyone has a spare camper van, please let me know. As long as I don’t have to reverse it, we’re fine.