I don’t think I’ll get a chance to come on here tomorrow so I’m writing this a day early. One thing I am certain of is that this time next week I’ll be more than ready to curl up into the foetal position and die a slow, peaceful death.
However before I hit that point, I’m going to live in a field for a week. A field with 177,000 like-minded folk for the Glastonbury Festival (clicky for line-up).
I first attended in 2003 and, pretending I didn’t have a small tear in my eye leaving the site on the Monday (“shit, I’ve got dust in my eye”), vowed to return every year – and have done. I know it’s not everybody’s cup of tea: camping in a field, no showers (although there are some showers on site), dodgy toilets, becoming best friends with packets of baby wipes…I’ve never failed to enjoy it, I love the place. Even surviving the mud fests in 2004 & 2007 when, if it rains bad, the place can resemble something akin to a refugee camp (a fucking brilliant refugee camp though). Thankfully the forecast is looking good for this week.
Personally I don’t think the line-up is as good as previous years, but there are still some pretty big names playing. Regardless of who they put on, you could go there, not go near any of the main stages and still have a great time.
Out of the hundreds of acts I’m only definitely making sure I see: Doves, Kasabian, Fleet Foxes, Altern-8, Prodigy, Bon Iver and probably Bruce Springsteen – that’s all I’m going to plan for. It’s not worth making plans to see much more because I know I won’t make it. I normally find myself watching obscure music somewhere, whether it be stumbling into the Hare Krishna tent and bopping to their beats for a while, or transfixed by didgeridoo techno/trance (trust me on this…it was brilliant at the time!), there’s always something going on somewhere.
At approximately 9/10am Wednesday morning, tent set up and full of excitement of what’s ahead, I’ll be cracking open my first can of lager.
I won’t be a pretty sight this time next week, but there is a lot of revelry and debauchery to fit in between now and then…
I can’t bloody wait.