Nothing gives me more of a chill of excitement than driving on site before the throng of 'punters'. This year, I headed for Glastonbury-land on the Tuesday, which may seem a little excessive to those unacquainted with such ritual gatherings, but it makes perfect sense if you are in possession of an on-site vehicle pass and relish the glory of finding optimum camping space. Aside from these major factors, it's also an excellent chance to see the site at peace; tranquil, a sea of lush green (at least 10 cm above ground level before Wednesday brought in the stampeeders) and an air of smugness that comes with knowing that your first night is going to be a rare 'quiet' moment with friends and fellow crew-members.
This year, I worked (with a team of friends) as a comedy granny cleaner at the Pussy Parlure, a glamorous spiegel tent venue for cabaret, jazz bands, DJs and general eccentricities. Dress up included our personal choice of 'granny style' clothing: we varied our ensembles from 'classic housewife', to 'Glamorous grannies' to 'true pensioner', never forgetting our feather dusters: an essential prop for tickling customers and excellent dancing partner. I'm not much of a performer (never enjoyed school plays, shying away from any public speaking), but I think that this 'part' was perfect for me, as I felt comfortable in the clothes... enjoyed the reaction we got from our audience and to be honest, a little (pre show time and break time) liquid de-inhibitor sure helped us get into character! The shifts were short, but staying in character for three hours was actually quite taxing. Being part of a circus-type family was exciting though; seeing all the acts preparing for their sets and just generally feeling like part of a special show made the experience all the more endearing - I would definitely do it again next year.
As per-usual, I didn't see as many acts as I should of... not that I don't make the most of my time, it's just that I'm of the opinion that Glastonbury shouldn't be on an itinerary. I like to cruise around, take in the alternative-side, seek out the underbelly of the festival - very rarely venturing into the main arena. In fact, the only time I frequented the Pyramid field was (begrudgingly) for the football, and (wholeheartedly) for Stevie the living-legend Wonder. What a performance. I knew it was going to be ethereal, but this set surpassed all expectations.
I cried, several times. This is unusual for me, I don't think I've ever cried during a musical performance. The tears came at an unexpected time: during a song I'd never heard before. It was a simple ballard, sung by Stevie alone, with no embellishment from his extensive band of approx 40 musicians from around the globe. And again the tears let forth when he sang 'Happy Birthday' with Michael Eavis, simply because it was such a perfect moment - I doubt if there was a dry eye in the field by the end of the song. However, leaving the Pyramid field was not such a pleasurable experience. The crowd was so thick that it took what felt like an hour to get to the dance village, step by laborious step... I realise I have built up a strong fear of large crowds and spent most of the rest of the festival at the quieter reaches of the Park.
So, Monday rolled around at ridiculous speed, sometimes I think a week at Glastonbury isn't enough, but then I remember that Monday-morning feeling I always get. It usually occurs as the highs of the last night subside and you realise that the party can't go on forever. I was especially disenchanted as those around me were still very much 'tripping their nuts off' and I had no desire to play catch up. A heavy, hazy dawn was upon us, and out of the corner of my eyes in all directions I noticed the crusties and freaks emerging... where did they come from? Such creatures included: a man in gimp costume, a man in head to toe black spandex, but the worst by no mistake was and an angry, aggressive, socially retarded Bristolian who decided that he'd try to win over some friends by throwing a handful of laughing gas bullets amongst my friends... only he had no canister to fulfill their potential.
Full of self-pity and obviously in desperate need to let his emotions out - he then started saying things like: "My Missus hates me, my mum hates me..." at this point we were edging away, but he just kept intruding, maybe he was that delirious that he actually thought we were his friends.
The most disturbing moment came soon after: he totally crossed the line of all decency: "Come on, come on! Lets all toss each other off!" Horrible. Vile man. I began to notice that this guy had attracted the attention of a team of security people lolling around close by. They seemed to be circling closer as a few of my friends began to get upset by his presence. He noticed the security people and got aggressive towards them, refusing to move on.
I'd had enough: there really was nothing to keep me up any longer. As I left, I noticed a security van at the top of the Park, hopefully he got restrained and return to whatever hell-hole he emerged from.
But in all honesty - that was the only moment of hellishness in the midst of an otherwise spectacular festival.
Happy Birthday Glastonbury: may you continue to enthrall me forever.
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