Thursday, 27 June 2013


The wifi is sort-of up. It's currently slower than me trying to get out of bed this morning, but it's technically up. The press tent is basically just full of frustrated photographers charging their iPhones.

Not the best start to the 2013 blog, but I persevere.

So, where are we?

Well, the tent is up. Obviously. When we got here it was hot and everyone was dressed in shorts and little tops and flipflops and having a lovely time - unless they were in the toilets, in which case it's a case of, as one guy put it, 'look up at the sky, and for the love of all that is holy, don't breathe'.

Home sweet Home.
There was the usual faff trying to get the lilo inflated, the tent something close to respectable - completely pointless, I know only too well that I'll wake up to discover I'm spooning two litres of cider.

With that all sorted, we took a stroll to the market and successfully ignored the siren call of Marmite necklaces (no, really), Henna tattoos and tie-dye dungarees.

We wandered to the green fields and the stone circle, and were struck by the tranquillity of the Peace Garden, regaled by a choir called the Guardians of Gaia, and struck by the tinyness of some of the shorts the girls are wearing around here. The Candle Powered Steam Boat people are here again. Glastonbury just wouldn't be Glastonbury without a little metal boat whirring its way around a fish tank near the Green Fields.

Make a wish
I love the Green Fields. They're well worth the trek up to the top of the festival, full of sculpture, arts, crafts and crazy little stalls and little peaceful havens that make you think about thoughts you didn't know you had. There are wishing trees, and sculptures and gardens that take your breath away, but are often ignored by those hurtling through on their way to catch whoever is on the Pyramid or the Other stage.

I was especially struck by the optimism of the woman trying to sell Elderflower cordial ('Refreshment straight from England's hedgerows!') to the streaming masses, wandering by with cans of Stella and Carlsberg in their hands.

There was a quick amble back to hospitality for a triumphant interview with GFM, who were oddly worried about what I was eating and seemed faintly disappointed that I wasn't rushing out to go and see Liam Gallagher or Skrillex (rumoured for the Sonic Stage) and was more far more interested in watching Iron Man 3.

Then it got a bit cloudy and overcast, and then it got windy and a bit cold and there were all these people shivering in tiny denim shorts and shades, and then it sort of spat at us a little bit, and then suddenly it was proper raining and my knock-off Converse just weren't cutting it anymore, so an official welly situation was declared.

Sunglasses in the rain! How contradictory!

There was the obvious rapid jog to the tent to try and stay as dry as possible, diving in head first through the door and then having to mess around pulling off soaked shoes and waterproofs and trying to pull on warmer, dry clothes in a space roughly the size of a small cupboard and full of rucksacks and sleeping bags.

I. Hate. Camping.

It is, of course, gloriously chaotic here in the pop-up city. I've walked past an entire squadron of Power Rangers, Super Mario and way too many people rocking onesies. This year, there doesn't seem to be quite so many people dressed up - it's all about tiny shorts, Hunters wellies and flowers in the hair. And that's just the guys. And..well, currently: waterproofs and Converse being rapidly ruined by the increasing amounts of mud.

My welly in the mud
It wouldn't be Glastonbury without rain, and we currently have plenty of that. The good thing is that it wasn't a waste of time dragging my wellies on site, and that I've discovered that my tent doesn't leak. The downside, of course, is being constantly soggy and trying to look cool in a Kagool, which is clearly impossible.

Obligatory 'it's wet, so what?' photo

Still, promises no rain and warmish weather after lunchtime tomorrow, and if you can't trust the Internet about weather, I don't know what the world is coming to.


Raccoon said...

I'm sure I speak for all the men (and occasional woman) watching from home that your camera person failed to capture those shorts. I mean, I was expecting in-depth coverage of the festival here. Get to it.