Camping?

The big news this week is that, apparently, Mick Jagger will be camping at Glastonbury Festival.

In an interview with Q magazine, he said:

"I've got nothing else to do on Glasto weekend, and I want to spend some time with my family and have a good time as well. We went camping all the time when I was a kid. Camping in France was our family holiday. And we brought baked beans with us, as we didn't trust that fancy foreign food. We were so totally English." 

I'll admit that I get wound up by news that the rich and famous are camping at Glastonbury, because having snuffled around in the hospitality area of the festival for the last few years, I'm more than aware that celebrity camping isn't exactly the same as what the rest of us have to put up with.

Hospitality camping is pretty much the same as the camping everywhere else on site, except that there are flushing toilets and showers and four feet between tents, instead of four inches and a 20 minute trek to the nearest Portaloo. This is where I've been camping for the last few years, thanks to my press pass. The first year I was there, I didn't realise how much room we'd have, and pitched my tent practically on top of my neighbours. It was weird being able to unzip my door in the morning and not discover that someone had drunkenly put up a tent half a centimetre away from mine.

A big fence to keep out the masses

Hospitality is nice, but it's nothing compared to Winnebago City, full of luxury motorhomes and the odd tour-bus. I tend to walk past these rubber-necking, in the hopes of spotting Johnny Depp or Brad Pitt, impressing them with my charm and wit, and inevitably marrying them. So far the best I've managed is spotting Donny Tourette having a wee up against a van.

Or what about Camp Kerala, overlooking the festival site where you can get a tent apparently designed by the Maharaja of Jodhpur, with double beds, Egyptian cotton sheets, Hungarian duck down mattresses, sheepskin rugs and an endless supply of linen. It's only around £7,000 for the duration.  

Bad news, though. Helicopter transport isn't included in the price.  

The yurt love field is another one I've been trying (and failing) to blag for years. And the Cloudhouses (12 foot diameter furnished yurt - £815), and the Podpads (£495 for a basic model, sleeping two people.) Even a shameless attempt to win over the hearts of the people behind Spindlewood Lodges hasn't come to anything. 

I suspect that despite my best efforts, I will once again be spending the duration of Glastonbury in a £16 tent from eBay, still covered 2011's mud. It's hard to imagine that Mr Jagger will be camping in a tent he picked up in Millets as part of their festival specials, with a free sleeping bag and air bed thrown in. I'm reasonably sure he won't be waking up to feel the feet of his neighbour pressing against his cheek through two layers of canvas (2005), or having a drunk bloke trip over his guideropes at 4.30am and bring the whole lot down on top of him (I had no luck that year.)

..yes, of course I'm jealous.

But someone really needs to explain exactly what camping isn't to the rich and the famous.