Meeting a genuine Somerset farmer whilst trying to find the west carpark at the Glastonbury site and asking him for directions (which resulted in us getting more lost and passing the same fruit farm three bleeding times).

Waking up to people playing Sausage Badminton (that'd be, er, badminton played using sausages then) on the path near where we were camped every morning.

Sitting behind a Scotsman in a kilt whilst watching Badly Drawn Boy who kept OPENING HIS LEGS. It was only once he crouched down with his skirt hitched up with his crown jewels dangling down that some blokes behind us shouted 'I have Scotch bollocks for breakfast!' He then went away.

Being drunk on Saturday night in the Fields of Avalon and Lost Vagueness area and EXTREMELY amused upon finding a giant white chapel, then running around like a loon and keeling over in the mud. Yay.

And of course the music. There is nothing like moshing to Basement Jaxx's Where's Your Head At with people dressed up as gorillas on stage. There really isn't. I saw Nelly Furtado (I know, I know, but there wasn't anyone else I wanted to see on and I was having a dispute with someone over her nationality), Badly Drawn Boy, Snow Patrol, Franz Ferdinand, Oasis, Scissor Sisters, Keane, Lost Prophets, the Killers, Basement Jaxx (my only criticism is that they didn't play Rendez-Vu), Divine Comedy (who did a great Queens of the Stone Age cover of No One Knows), Joss Stone, GLC and Muse.

I also tried to learn how to spin plates in the children's area. And failed. And tried both the medium-sweet and the dry cider and they were both vile. But never mind because it was a bloody amazing weekend, yes, despite the rain!

Unfortunately I cremated my trainers on Sunday night on the camp fire because after all they'd been through I knew I'd never be able to wear them again. R.I.P.

previous | next