Glastonbury

26 Jun 2007

Having driven through torrential rain and freak storms on the way to Reading on Tuesday, I was fully expecting the site to be a trifle damp, and wasn't disappointed. We drove up via Guildford and Bristol, leaving at 5pm, in a trip lasting a good 2 hours longer than it should have done. When we eventually arrived at 10pm, we met up with the rest of the group and made the long difficult journey from the car park through to the camping site, an area called the Paines field. Thank god it was still dry when we set up our tents. Saying that though, we were a tad frustrated while helping set up Paul's tent, a tangled bastard mess of poles and guideropes. I could almost hear the chilled cans of Heineken and foldout chair calling out to me as we scratched our heads trying to figure out how to build the monster. Thankfully Gavin amused us all by shouting "Put the f*cking tent up" in a faux Nelson Mandela accent every few minutes to ease the mood. It caused a giggle whenever it was mentioned that weekend.

It took us nearly two hours before we gave up and went for a wander round the site, which is when we discovered the potent Pear Cider. Friday began with a fuzzy head and a downpour, the rain battering the top of my tent like it was there to stay all weekend. And guess what? God bless Mr Peter Storm and his waterproofs.Breakfast (and lunch) consisted of a baguette, filled with what was basically a gut-busting full english breakfast. Slightly ambitious. I couldn't eat again for around 10 hours, which is quite something for me. It also cost a whopping £5. I blame that meal that it took me 3 days before I could have a shit. The toilets didn't help. Metal latrines, with round holes dropping to a pit of shit and other savoury substances below, reminded me of a trip to a medieval village in my childhood.

The rest of Friday was spent catching brief snippets of bands before deciding we wanted to move to another stage and end up missing the set because it took us so long wading through the mud. Ali and I spent about 3 hours getting back to the car to pick up my wellies, and then took a slow stroll over to see Bloc Party and Amy Winehouse. Winehouse was the highlight of my day. I'm not particularly a fan, but this girl has talent and put on a hell of a show. We all finally settled at the Pyramid Stage to see The Fratellis, Kasabian and Arctic Monkeys in the evening. I wasn't sure what to make of Kasabian's set.

Their songs were good, sure, but something was missing. They started well, but they seemed to lose their energy half-way through the set and it didn't help with the frontman's arrogant mock Liam Gallagher attitude. The Arctic Monkeys were good live, extremely tight, but I got exhausted with listening to frantic songs I didn't know by younger, better looking and musically successful...so we went for a drink.We woke up on Saturday to find the site covered in deep mud that wasn't too dissimilar to melted chocolate ice-cream. We took ages to find the Jazz World stage in the hope of seeing The Bees, and were forced to listen to someone considerably less talented playing offensive folk songs in the Left Field tent when it started to really hammer it down. When we left, the mud was ridiculously sticky and made it virtually impossible to walk on, so it was really heavy going to get to the Jazz World stage.

We kept ourselves amused by singing songs about Liverpool's midfield. We made it to the Jazz World stage with about 3 songs left. I was in danger of starting to get a bit down at this point, thinking that my one and only stag do was going to be ruined by the weather.We sat and watched Maximo Park together on the Other Stage before everyone left Tony and I so that they could catch The Kooks on the Pyramid Stage. Next up were Editors, and they were just awesome. And that's when it started getting good. I really loved it. Sat in my foldout chair, its metal legs half buried in the thick mud, warm enough, but rain drops diluting my beer. I looked up at the distant, faded sun nestled amongst spotty clouds, scattered across the sky as if by some grand design, just as the Editors reached the epic chorus of 'Smokers Outside The Hospital Doors.' I looked back and saw the stage light up and thats when I had my Glastonbury moment. Slightly pissed, but happy, as a pig in shit.