Glastonbury 2013 – And some life lessons

 So it has taken me some time to even think about writing up Glastonbury, but not for want of time or motivation. For of the myriad stories, warnings and advice that I was showered with in the build up to ticking the renowned festival off my life checklist, nobody mentioned the post-glasto adjustment period that would leave me lost and confused, occasionally looking for a battered halloumi van amidst sorry efforts to recreate one of those sublime toasties. More than just a five day hangover, more than just sleep deprivation, more than just a begrudging return to work, this two week period is an eclectic concoction of highs and lows that can be as much a rollercoaster as the festival itself. It feels a little like jet lag, only without the jet and foreign sweets. Even now, finding myself without a beer in hand by 11am seems almost as bad as pineapple on pizza; it’s just not right. But now the turmoil has subsided enough for me to reflect, I realise that I have learnt much and more from my time at Worthy Farm. Allow me to share some lessons.

1 – Glastonbury is more than a festival. Aside from the explosions of artistic expression that took to the numerous stages, the festival fills the gaps with a lifestyle that you can’t help but pine when you’re buying your morning coffee from Starbucks. I enjoyed a celebration of electronic beats in the apocalyptic Block 9. I saw a woman in red dress juggling atop a ladder in the Circus Fields. I felt the beats of hard house passing through my body like electricity in the Avalon dome while the very next  wandering through the Healing Fields seeking a higher form of peace. I watched acrobats dance amidst jets of flame as ravers flocked to the mechanical spider that was Arcadia and I walked the line between heaven and hell in the lands of Shangri La. I experienced music and nature becoming one in The Glade before joining a campfire around a the Stone Circle to drink up the lights and illuminations that spread along the vibrant horizon in the company witches, nudists and would-be anarchists. I spoke to more people that I didn’t know than did and I danced ‘til it was light in the tent of Guilty Pleasures, singing every word The Bangles, Bon Jovi and Belinda Carlisle until my throat was raw. And though I filled my days from dusk ‘til dawn, these were nothing compared to the things I could have done.

2 – Give your feet more Credit. Not only can your car be a fifty minute walk away, but the site itself is gargantuan, and with visitor numbers in the region of 180,000 (the highest ever), it’s no wonder that it can take an hour to get from one zone to another. Back in the heaving metropolis, the thought of walking a mile elicits the sweats before I begin. I have to plan my stops, schedule food breaks, fill my water bottle, make sure my battery is charged, inform my parents in case of an emergency, that sort of thing. But at Glasto you can walk and walk and wander and walk… and you won’t even know you’ve moved. What’s more, you could spend the whole weekend trekking across the reported thousand acres of festival, and you still will not see the whole show. But have faith, only when you get back to the tent at night will your feet finally say, “No, just no.”

 
3 – The media are just jealous. If you put your faith in mainstream media, you’d never go to the festival if you weren't already a veteran, believing that the place is full of hippies, drug-using music fiends and tree huggers. Though these demographics were present, the majority of the Glasto goers want nothing more than to lose themselves in the music, the art and the experience. “Night of the living dead” was the tagline used for the Rolling Stones, having the world believe Jagger was busting his moves around a zimmer frame while Keith Richards was wheeled out in his coffin, kept alive only by the volts surging through his amp. But if you want the cold hard truth of it, their set was nothing less than two hours of perpetual euphoria. In hindsight, perhaps it’s quite fitting for the press to reference a film that pioneered its genre and is still recognised as a cult classic, after all, the Rolling Stones are arguably the musical equivalent.

4 – A Tesco value 2 person tent… is not a 2 person tent. Nor does it seem to accommodate any kind of weather. I know, “What did I expect from a Tesco Value tent?” Well, at the very least I expected it to be a tent. In fact, it was more a taught carrier bag masquerading as camping equipment, such that even corner to corner I was too long a human, and such that the rain seemed to have no trouble finding its way in. But regardless of it’s failure at all things camping, in the end it my became my little home away from.

5 – Some bands you will never like… Until you’ve seen them at Glastonbury. For me there were only a few bands that I was anticipating as eagerly as I am the next instalment of Game of Thrones. These included the Smashing Pumpkins, who delivered a hypnotic and powerful set, Noah and the Whale, who seemed to embody the sun that blanketed Worthy Farm and mark the true beginning of an insouciant summer, and Vampire Weekend who were nothing but electric from start to finish. But the jewels of the festival were the ones I had least interest in, and above artists like Tom Odell, The 1975 and Elvis Costello who amazed me with their live talent and all-round awesomeness, it was Mumford and Sons who stole the weekend with their phenomenal show that had me praying to all gods of festivity that it would never end. All I can say is that, for a band who never before managed to get my inner music junkie going and have even gone so far as to annoy me at times, I have not ceased listening to both their albums since returning home. Incredible.

6 – Flares are the coolest thing since flashing yo-yos, but only at Glastonbury. With my particular flock designating Thursday as the 70’s / 80’s themed fancy dress day, I was ushered into Oxfam with no means of escape until I had acquired a certain pair of flowing flowery flares that I’m sure started life as stately wallpaper. Finished off with a bandana and some Lennon-esque shades, it was Liberaci meets David Bowie and amidst the timeless wonder that is Glastonbury, I’ll admit that I did feel like the bees knees. But now as they lay folded in my bottom drawer, I am not quite sure why they ever existed. My plan is to donate them back to Oxfam… only to buy them again next year for another dose of cool.  
 

7 – A festival is not a festival without Dizzy Rascal. He reminds me of the half sane uncle who never misses a gathering to showcase his old jokes and Jackson moves… but you know darn well you’d miss him if he ever no-showed. All I can say about Dizzy is that I hope he’s still cracking out Bonkers when he’s 70, and having seen Jagger move back and fourth on stage like crab on amphetamines, I whole heartedly believe that this is possible.

8 – You don’t have to play a festival to be a highlight. Daft Punk were the talk of the whole weekend… and they didn’t even play! First they were rumoured to fill one of the TBC slots, then it was whispered that they had played Arcadia, with nobody around to give a first hand a account of this, then they were set to take to the Pyramid Stage after Mumford and Sons, and so it went on. I was even informed on one evening that Lady Gaga was set to join the Stones… but alas this was no more than a little monster’s dream.

I will not say that the toilets smelt of lavender, nor will I claim that the it doesn’t burn the pockets a little, but what I will say is that Glastonbury is less a festival, and more its own world, and a world that should be visited at least once in every lifetime. My only gripe: Five days is not nearly long enough, but then again nothing that enjoyable ever is. 

I will be striving to secure a ticket for next year. Do join me.