The Diary of a Glastonbury Virgin

Breathless and excited I stood with my ticket feeling like Charlie after he’d opened the winning Wonka Bar.  Then before I knew it the wait was over - Thursday arrived and I was on my way to Glastonbury. 

I could tell we were getting closer to the colossal event when lines fluorescent clad officials suddenly appeared along the roads to direct queues of vehicles onto the site.  I felt special with our ‘hospitality’ car pass plastered to our window as we sailed through picturesque Somerset countryside and onto my home for the next three days – Glastonbury.  

The forecast may’ve predicted terrible weather but we arrived to a pleasant June afternoon making me wish I’d packed my flip-flops instead of the obligatory wellies.  But the sturdy footwear came in handy for the trek between the car park and the hospitality area.

Straight away I was totally overwhelmed by the shear size of the site.  Each area was like a new mini universe with enormous brightly coloured tents dominating the skyline.  In their shadows were people setting up their own little tent worlds across every field – all I could see in every direction was tents.  The John Peel Tent to our left, Dance Village to our right and directly in front of us in the distance, soaring into the sky, was the infamous Pyramid Stage majestically presiding over the whole event.

On arrival at our camping area, I was very grateful to our helpful friends (the VF boys!) whose tent erection skills were second to none - they had my home from home up by the time I arrived. 

Unfortunately, for my trusty companion, my brother Tim, he had to get to work at setting up his ‘tent’.  I use the term ‘tent’ lightly as it looked more like something the children would play in down the garden rather than the robust construction recommended for a wet weekend it Glastonbury. 

Sadly for him the rain was torrential that night and it not only soaked his ‘tent’ but also everything inside it, including himself.  He was a very sorry sight at 4.00am standing outside our brother, Simon’s tent, requesting, in a small defeated voice, for some shelter for the rest of the night

I awoke the next day with the previous night’s cider causing me a bit of discomfort but with the memory of a great night exploring the site. We had walked the length of the site taking in The Other Stage and the vast space which would soon be full of revellers jumping and bumping to their favourite bands.  We gazed at the enormous array of gastronomic offerings and funky stalls selling everything you could possible imagine.  We passed by Jazz World, the enormous Circus Tent and in the twilight could see across the site to the multi peaked Acoustic Tent sitting high on the hill. 

We ended up in Trash City where we encountered a snaking queue coming from the Flaming Circus.  On asking several people what the queue was for no one knew, so we joined it anyway to be disgustingly entertained by the freaky acts on the Trash City Circus Stage while we waited.  One guy was picking up live batteries with chains linked to hooks in his nipples – nice! 

Passers by stopped and asked what we were queuing for, we replied with the mandatory “no idea” which enticed them to join the ever-lengthening queue as well.  After an hour, we made the decision to move on, so we never did find out what happened there that night – there’s probably people still queuing there now.  But what we did stumble across was the Jazz Lounge and spent some time chilling to some cool jazz-fusion.  With so much going on at night I felt a huge amount of excited anticipation at what this wondrous place had in store for us by day.

Hospitality was probably one of the best locations to camp as we began the day by listening to Mr Hudson and Library whilst consuming vast amounts of tea and bacon baps in the bar.  Then it was off to the Other Stage to watch one of my favourite acts from the weekend - Reverend and the Makers.  It was a great way to start the day with their superb music, a smudging of satirical poetry from the Reverend and a damn good show.   Then we were off for a few ciders by the Jazz World Stage to listen to some cool Indian sounds before heading back to The Automatic’s energetic and electrifying performance. 

The rain continued to fall and the mud continued to grow as I decided to head round to the Pyramid Stage for Amy Winehouse.  It was an Olympic effort as I literally waded through wellie deep molten mud only to discover an impenetrable heaving mass of people with the same idea.  So after a couple of numbers including my favourite, 'Back to Black', I slugged back to my haven of civilisation and security in the hospitality area for a short respite before venturing forth again.

Then something magical happened - sun came out!  We stood, bathed in rays, watching the crazy but very entertaining GusGus at the Jazz World Stage before meeting up with my girl pals who had just arrived on site.  We went to see the amazing Scouting for Girls who were playing at the Late and Live venue near the Orange Chill and Charge Tent. They were superb - entertaining, talented and witty – watch this space for them in the very near future.  

We finished our musical evening by watching Amy Winehouse’s flawless performance at the Jazz World Stage – I could see what the earlier hoards were for.  For someone who confessed to being quite drunk and was seemingly incapable of stringing a sober sentence together she delivered an amazing set.

It maybe my fill of festival cider, but I feel a confession coming on…Me and two of my girl pals decided to book a B&B for the next 2 nights.  I’m sure this will disappoint most hardened festival goers but it was a decision I deliberated over at length.   My thoughts were do I -a) Get into the vibe and enjoy the total experience? Or b) Get into the vibe and enjoy the total experience with the warmth and comfort of a soft bed and roof over my head?  The latter won and the incessant rain coupled with the mud creeping further and further into any available orifice forced my sense of humour to desert me.  Instead my thoughts drifted to the hot shower and soft sheets that were waiting for me at The Shambala Spiritual Retreat.

Refreshed we headed back for our day two of the festivities.  CSS, Maximo Park and The Kooks were interspersed with a Champagne frenzy which fuelled my desire to get up close and friendly with the Klaxons.  I tried and failed because I was upsetting too many people bedded in for the day.

However we finished off the night with what we had failed to complete Thursday.  We got into the Flaming Circus to witness some amazing beat-box sounds and a surreal poledancing trio of ‘ballerinas’.

We’d booked our taxi, optimistically, for 15 minutes to pick up from the Red Gate – some chance! After wading through the clay like mud, carefully navigating the swarm of people leaving from The Killers’ set, we completed the marathon distance to arrive some 1 ½ hours late and there wasn’t a taxi in sight. 

“Not a hope in hell,” was the response of the steward, when we asked where we could get a taxi from.  Then, like something out of a surreal dream, a London Cab chugged over the brow of the hill with its light on!  We hailed it down and 10 minutes later were tucked up in our holistic haven.

Sunday memories are a haze of drunken moments.  The rain was continuing to tip from the heavens and when we arrived back on site we found seas of defeated people deserting the proverbial ship which was now sinking in a quagmire of mud. 

I was shattered and aching but encouraged by the fact the mud had helped me discover muscles I never knew existed.  As we departed we followed a trail of discarded boots, sleeping bags and other paraphernalia that exhausted festival goers could no longer carry.

On reflection my Glastonbury experience was really one of the most unique of my life.  Its like visiting another planet, somewhere similar to the bar where aliens from all over the universe converge in Star Wars.  I’d had visions of a holistic experience - sitting down, drinking wine and soaking up the atmosphere whilst the sun sets and my favourite band plays the performance of their lives.  The reality was a holistic experience - standing up, listening to some of the most amazing musical talent I have ever encountered whilst drinking pear cider, transfixed by the changing silhouettes of those majestic tents against the stormy twilight sky. 

And the atmosphere? Electric!