Glastonbury – I finally got down to it.
There are more photographs, but they’re all somewhat skewed because Sean’s not as skilled at taking selfies as I am, or slightly blurry because I’ve grown accustomed to snapping shots of anything and everything on the digital camera and don’t think about things like background lighting anymore, or else slightly smooch-y and of no interest to anyone but the two of us.
Nearly without fail, the first question people ask is, “Did you love it? Was it the best, the absolute best thing you’ve ever done?” I’ve got to say, with no offense meant to those for whom it is and was, “No.” But that’s not to say it wasn’t entirely worth it, a brilliant time, an experience I don’t regret one bit.
I’ll be presenting this in list-form because after having spent the entire day (the hottest day in England since July 2006!) working on my dissertation with varying results, sweating it out in the gym, and trying to avoid Royal Baby Watch 2013 (News Flash: It’s over. It’s a boy.), I’m feeling quite lazy and not at all organized, unless I can organize with bullet points.
– the excitement and anticipation that built up as we waited to find out whether the ready bed (air mattress with built-in sleeping bag) would actually fit inside the tent
– the large group of typical British youths camped next to us, who blew through nearly 300 canisters of nitrous oxide, as well as beer, pot, and a few bottles of home-brewed cider nobody would touch
– on a related note: the baby shower they threw for their friend
– eating massive savoury pies (mine was spinach and feta, his was steak and ale) with mash and mustard, two dinners in a row
– stumbling upon a group of traditional Irish mummers (the Armagh Rhymers) who performed on small wooden stage in robes and wicker masks one sunny afternoon
– the countless bawdy acts, rude comics, escape artists, and aerial acrobats we saw over the many, many hours spent in the Circus and Cabaret fields
– the man who vomited in the Peace Garden
– seeing Asakusa Jinta on the HELL STAGE and dancing in the driving rain and sticky mud
– LORDS OF LIGHTNING:
– the fire tornado:
– sitting on the ground an hour before the rolling stones start only to hear a massive >BRRRRRRRRRARRRRP< right next to my face; i look up and make eye contact with the chap who politely excuses himself and continues on his trek to the stage
– the Irish man who tried to drunkenly go to sleep on the ground behind us during the Rolling Stones – we helped him up, gave him some water, and he went on his way just as right as rain
– suffering the ill-effects of too much rum during the rolling stones, i made a run for the port-a-loos, right before Kenny Rogers’s set began, not realizing just what being sick in a port-a-loo at a massive festival might entail
– Kenny Rogers stealing the day and very nearly the festival with his seasoned ‘dad’ jokes and stage banter, and repeated renditions of ‘Islands in the Stream’ and ‘The Gambler’
– finally seeing Billy Bragg perform, and falling in love just a bit
So maybe it was just a little bit amazing.