Thursday, 24 June 2010

Life is pain.

I don't descend officially on the festival site until tomorrow, and sitting here in the office in killing me.

A delegation from Midsomerset News and Media spent a couple of hours there this morning - myself included - popping in to pick up our press passes, wristbands (I see they've been made of asbestos again this year. Thanks for that.) and take a look at our stand and wander around a bit.

It's dusty as anything on site, but the vibe is just lovely. Everyone seems pretty chilled out and there's a real feeling of space that I don't remember getting in the last few festivals, I suppose since the rain forced everyone onto the footpaths there and now people have just spilled out and onto the grass, drinking everything they can get their hands on, looking very festival chic and generally just enjoying the sun and the atmosphere.

The press tent was pretty quiet, but it was like an oven, and starting to fill up with media bods. I was ridiculously excited to be greeted with one of my own advertising bills pinned up in front of me. Wasn't even a Glastonbury one, but to see something I'd written (all four words of it) where Rolling Stone, Q or The Guardian should probably have been was pretty awesome.

Prince Charles is on site! I can't believe Glastonbury Festival is by Royal Appointment, now. He turned up this afternoon, as he's got something to do with Water Aid, one of the charities that the festival supports, and then went to look at some affordable housing in the village. I didn't see him, though.

Still, the all-too-brief trip left me aching to stay and feeling more than a little out of place, since I was wandering around in work clothes. Worse, however, it left me nursing three blisters, thanks to stupid, impractical work footwear and a hike across site.

This is an unmitigated disaster.

 I have to spend the next three days dashing from stage to press tent, to stage, to random fields, to Arcadia and I've already managed to carve chunks out of my feet.

Grrr. Grrrrr.

Beginning to think that the Crocs flip-flops could turn out to be something of a life saver.

..ngh. I want to be on site already. It's lovely and sunny and friendly there, and I'm stuck in the office with sore feet and page deadlines to meet.

Grrrrr. Grrr. Grrr!


Tom Stephenson said...

No such thing as a free Croc, L. It'll get better. Give my love to (you and) all my friends from the Bell! Have fun soon... X

Anonymous said...

Blisters already? You're very fragile aren't you?

Good luck getting out of the festival with your feet intact!