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drinks Monday 1 September 08 Edinburgh Reunion in London
Topping And Butch Hit Leicester Square 26-27 September 08
Diary of a Glastonbury Virgin
Pamela, a girl from a good home (in Rochdale) had never been to Glastonbury before. What would her first time in the mud be like? Would she cry (yes)? Would she learn how to make hash (yes)? And what about her loo roll?
by Pamela Lee
Wednesday 22 June 05. Forced to get up at 5 am, but felt lively (quite). Three hours on the road, plus ironically-titled Full Works Breakfast at a Little Chef (they exist). We arrived.
My travelling companions were die-hard Glasto fans. They’d warned about the 2 mile trek across the site in the blistering sun to find the ultimate camping spot. We set up camp and drank a lot of lukewarm beers under the gazebo. Ah, festival life.
Finding the best place to camp meant we were 2 days early – no music till Friday. Not to worry. ‘Glastonbury is not just about the music, man. It’s about the whole experience.’ That’s what people say. I was amazed – it’s true. It’s absolutely huge. It’s as big as my home town, Rochdale - and a much lower chav-count.
I spent the 2 days wandering around in a constant state of awe. There was the Dance Village - a whole field dedicated to dance music. I loved the ID Spiral. It’s where people go to recover from dodgy mushroom experiences – a sanctuary. Part of the field was sectioned-off. It was filled with white spirals, and little round mirrors hung on a transparent washing line, looking as if they floated on the breeze. People were gently doing poi (traditional Maori dance props for spinning) in time to the music – a mixture of psychedelic and atmospheric trance.
The Green Fields and Stone Circle are the classic hippiest part of Glastonbury. Tales about the Stone Circle are part of Glastonbury’s folklore - about how magical it is to see the sun rise from such a sacred place. It doesn’t disappoint. It’s a spectacular sight (and beats standing on top of a multi-story car park in Rochdale).
This is when Summer Sun catastrophically ended. Day One of the music clashed with some of the worst thunderstorms ever – total saturation. I watched The Undertones play through the hood of my £2 cellophane poncho. Touchingly, they dedicated their raunchy Teenage Kicks (I need excitement / I need it bad / She's the best, I've ever had / Get teenage kicks right through the night) to the late John Peel.
Trudged through sludge to the Other Stage to see Editors, who come from Ipswich and Birmingham. They blasted out Munich and Bullets with an amazing sense of ease. It has to be said that lead singer Tom Smith sounds like Morrissey – a bit. Unfortunately the size of the crowd didn’t reflect their performance – the horrific weather stopped a lot of people coming.
What a day. The Zutons, Elvis Costello, The Doves. And The Killers – who gave an amazing set, thrilling the crowd. Highlight was The White Stripes. Jack and sister/ex wife Meg White played tracks from their new album Get Behind Me Satan. They were as mystifying as ever.
Next day, all-time low. I burst into tears queuing for a bacon bap at Lou Lou’s Café. I’d been suffering a serious case of wellies-rage all weekend to the point where I was plotting a heist on camping-and-other-bits-stall Joe Bananas. My boyfriend came back from an hour queuing to say they only had size 8 left. Grr. I’m a bloody size 5. Hm. A couple of plastic bags and a roll of gaffer tape later, my DIY wellies saved the day.
I found out truths. Take wellies. Ignore the forecast - take them. Don’t agree to meet friends there - it won’t happen. Corned beef and onion Smash makes an ultimate corned beef hash. Don’t take pretty pastel-yellow plimsolls - unless you hate pastel-yellow and don’t care that they will never be restored to the way they were born. Things don’t always go to plan – so an empty loo roll is no good.
Musically, Glastonbury was amazing. I saw Tori Amos, Rufus Wainwright, Brian Wilson, New Order, Cold Play, The Departure, The Kills, Basement Jaxx and lots more. I’ll definitely go again (with wellies).
And I’m fully converted to the ‘It’s not just about music man’ line. It’s about everything. From the (amazingly) varied selection of good food, to the long-drop toilets (not as bad as people say), to the amount of kindness displayed by people. And even the mud. It’s all what makes Glastonbury - and I loved it.
But no matter how much you trust them, don’t lend your loo roll to anyone.
END
(c) Pamela Lee 2005
Pamela Lee was at Glastonbury 2005 (official dates 24-26 June 05)
Fringe Report (c) Fringe Report 2002-2008
