I couldn't make it to T in the Park last weekend - even though everyone and their granny seemed to be going, according to Facebook and Twitter feeds.
So you can imagine my agony when I had to decline my two media passes, including VIP for the weekend, from the organisers.
This feeling of despair however quickly turned into a kind of "Phew -thank goodness I dodged that bullet" feeling when I saw some of the pictures emerging from festival-goers who renamed the event Mudageddon!
T in the Park is a Scottish institution and I've had some amazing weekends there over the years because DF Concerts do such an amazing job pulling it all together. But unfortunately it doesn't matter how much you plan, nothing could have prepared those poor campers in Balado for the horrendous weather.
My two sisters got weekend camping passes to this year's festival and set off high as kites on Friday to have an amazing time with their friends.
Fast forward to Sunday afternoon when I received a phone call begging me to come and collect them as they couldn't take one more night camping.
Apparently their tent was infested with giant spiders and they couldn't see an inch of flesh that wasn't covered in mud!
I had to do my big sister duty and go to their rescue.
I prepared my car as best as I could, covered the back seats and took big black bags to put their wellies in.
The drive was ok until I hit the country road leading into the main drop off point. I queued for about an hour before I was ushered into the car park and, all the time I sat there, what can only be described as extras from zombie movie Shaun of the Dead shuffled by looking completely and utterly destroyed by their weekend camping experience in the rain.
When I finally parked up along with the thousands of other cars I then had the task of trying to locate my little damsels in distress while trying to ignore the slightly inebriated group of gentlemen shouting "Haw, im sure that's that Michelle McManus aff the telly there, by the way!"
After about half an hour three wee faces pressed up against my window, lips petted and soaked to the skin, begging to get in. So I jumped out and began operation removal of wellies and got the girls into the car while trying to protect the upholstery.
After 10 minutes we were all set to get out of the mudfest when disaster struck. While trying to take a short cut across the car park to join the never-ending queue of cars heading for the exit my car got stuck in the biggest mud pool I've ever seen.
I then looked around to see about 50 cars in the same plight. Those poor girls had to put those disgusting wellies back on and get knee deep in mud in a bid to push the car to freedom.
Help was soon at hand, though, from the knights in shinning armour trying to clear the car park and with the girls' help, after almost two hours, we got on our way. After a six-hour round trip we got home. As I waved goodbye to my sodden sisters their parting shot was "Thanks so much, sis, for everything - here's to T in the Park 2013!"
As I said, it's a Scottish Institution that not even our monsoon conditions can destroy.