The other side and beyond

The last 5 days have been eventful! Glastonbury kicked off for me at about lunch on Wednesday. I jumped into the car - grabbed one aussie and some last minute supplies in Maidenhead and careened down the M4 motorway, heading west toward Glastonbury! We arrived about three hours later. The solstace being good enough to afford us the most amount of sunshine possible for the erection of our camp: two tents; one tarp.

That night there was relative silence in the valley. The squatter camp of party goers only breaking the natural silence to begin a large vocal wave of noise and then sitting back to listen to flow through and arround the site, killing the calm and awakening the monsters within. A good thing too as normal human beings would be hard pressed to make it out of that place with their sanity intact.

The first thing that strikes you is the size of the whole thing. There were upward of 150 thousand people attending this year! The area of land it covers is massive too. Although not big enough to allow people to casually take up space for camp sites. Tents are errected and by the beginnning of Friday morning the ground is a wash with guide ropes and half malleted tent pegs, all intertwined forming a great mass of semi-rain resistant coverings. It was already evident at this stage - the movements of the 80% or so of people who had got in and set up over the last two days had left an enormous toll on the ground. It has rained each night since I had arrived. The rain softening the grass, ground and cow pats into a soft clay - waiting for the commings and goings of the throngs to take away the last of the sensibilities of the surface. By Friday night there were huge areas of the main tracks that were simply impassible - yet people carried on.

Saturday morning drew me from yet another dry, airbed assisted sleep. To another grey wet and cold morning. The world outside heaving with the expectation of an enormous day full of live music - dance and socially acceptable drug usage. At a festical, it is worth saying, anything short of scag becomes socially acceptable. The welly clad hippie sect that had gathered in Somerset this past weekend were no different. We were surrounded by the hopelessly drunk - confused and lost. All around us there was evidence of the blind leading the blind. And all of us in danger of being swallowed alive by the mud. The weight of the throng, and their movements, only serving to further increase the danger...

We entered on Saturday night. We advanced to a forward position and took up our posts - front and center - before the Kooks. Their youthful, cheary guitars serving as a more than pleasant interlude before the Americans... The Killers attacked the Glastonbury crowd with well oiled riffs and shiny suits. I have heard tell of poor sound quality from others - for me, up front, I had none of this. They performed their set list - returned for an encore and the lights came up signalling the end of the second days preceedings.


Sunday we awoke and broke camp - packed the car and headed back to the pyramid stage. It was here that the Kaiser Chiefs would soon pick up their electric axes and carve out an opening for the Who. The mud had taken its toll on the festival goers. Heavy set drunks had found solice in canvas seating. The roar of the crowd being brought together seemlessly for the anthemic singalongs as the groups chanted and beseached the crowd to lend their voice and join in.

With night now on us - work beconing to some the next day we headed off early - missing the Who to be responsible and get home safe. The down pour that greated us during their set asssuring me that although I knew I had missed out on talking about my generation - I had in the end made the right choice. Unable to see through the windscreen - I soldiered on down the M4 back into London. Found my bed and huncered in for a night of built up luxury.

So after all this I am left to say what finally of Glastonbury? I can only say that as festivals go I have never experienced anything as pleasant despite the mud and wet. The comaradarie of the experience and the magnitude of the event have been etched deep into my memory. I have seen the mud fields of Glastonbury in June and I have returned smiling and happy to have taken part.