Park and Joy Ride Scheme

It seems a long time ago back in the early autumn when I lucked out in the Glasto ticket lottery with minutes to spare securing 8 tickets and thus hoping to go the weekend without buying a drink due to the appreciation of my friends. The appreciated lasted about one pint. Per couple. So it's Wednesday night and going through the annual will it won't it chuck it down debate related to clothes to take with Debbie til she makes me make my own mind up. Up earlyish on the Thursday to take the young un out to Brentford en route to a weekend in Waterford with the wonderful Godmother Mary. Then it's onto the M3 for me and Debs with a really easy drive to Pilton even though we go to the wrong east gate at first and have to drive through the village to the west gates. As we stop in the bumpy field the first raindrops hit the windscreen. Timing is everything. Luckily it's been dry the last week so no mud and the wet trudge up to the entry gates could've and has been a lot lot worse. We find a lovely spot near the west fence forever known as The Football Field where English hearts were broken in 2010 by Germany. Sound familiar? Turns out to be very quiet and still even at night. Ramsay and Jo appear an hour later and we help them pitch and after catching up with a few drinks in their porch we venture out into the fray armed with ponchos against the rain. As a Thursday there's not a massive amount on the main stages but we catch SIX BY SEVEN who grind out a great set reminiscent of the grungier side of Hawkwind to get us in the mood and by the time they finish it's stopped raining. We wander up to The Park which will turn out to be our spiritual home over the next few days. We hang around drinking and chatting at the Stonebridge Bar and then up at the Rabbit Warren where we dance around to some house style tunes. Debs and I turn in early, relatively, and make our slippery way back home being amused by oddities as we go through the Park including the amazing annual sand sculpture.

Friday forecast spot on which is rain during the night and morning clearing up around midday. So gloomy at first but after breakfast with our camping buddies and proper coffee Debs and I set off to see her friend Ju who's running a snack shack just outside the site in the opposite corner to where we are. We wander around the Pyramid Stage space stopping for a while to see HAIM who are delivering raw gutsy southern blues sounding great through the massive speakers halfway up the audience space. Not adventurous enough to divert us for too long we see Ju then come back into the festival site to meet our friends at GOAT at West Holts ex Jazz Stage. Here the eight of us in the ticket pool are united for the first time - us original 4 plus Ramsay's brother Mark and wife Claire plus Otleyites Malcolm who DJed at my 50th and Lisa who enjoyed my 50th nearly as much as I did. To be honest most of Goat passed me by and seemed like good enough background music and we catch up with Mark and Claire who we've not seen since Bestival 2010 during which time they've become mum and dad. Debs wanders off to appropriately buy a black wooly coat during Goat and I decide to immerse myself in the band and go down the front to see the other four from Otley and to rock out to the last few songs enjoying the tribal beats, strong guitars and wild dancing. Their masks and costumes are pretty impressive too. After a mixed review among our group on Goat we go see the amazing SAVAGES at Williams Green who blow us away. As usual, go see! Then up to the Acoustic Tent struggling past thousands of Jake Bugg fans to a now near empty tent to see MARTIN STEVENSON who I think is a northeastern singer songwriter pretty folky and droll humour who amuses for a while but nothing as much as when the 6 of us (lost Mark and Claire) are leaving dancing in a Madness style out of and around the tent. It was nice laying in the sun for the first time this year listening to unchallenging music and not having to dance though. After wandering around watching the rich tapestry of life and punters pass us by we get to the Other Stage where we see TAME IMPALA who deliver a solidly psychedelic set which I remember I enjoyed but to be honest a bit hazy as to any specifics except a blanketing of Hawkwindesqueness. Probably me being forgetful rather than them not being memorable. Having said that ALT-J stood out for me as the highlight so far. A great collection of understated standards with a brilliantly heavy dub like quality to them at times really drawing us into their alt world and reminding me oddly enough of Birmingham reggae clubs that I used to see bands in. Now this analysis may be warped as my friends assured me that they weren't that great and nothing like reggae. The kids in the audience seemed to agree with me at least in their enjoyment. I didn't ask them if they thought Alt-J sounded like mid 80's dub. After this Debs and I wander up to the nearby Park area taking time out to chat laying on a very comfortable bed at least a darn sight better than our thin mattresses listening to some great happy house tunes. Wanting to get on our feet we go up to the stage area where DJANGO DJANGO are putting on a great show of jumpy jangly big fat juicy celtic inspired rock and psychedelicness. Although I've seen them about 5 times in the last year they don't disappoint and Debbie agrees, along with quite a few thousand at the Park. Oddly when I see PiL on Sunday they remind me of Django Django. Or maybe that should be the other way round and it's not so odd that a band dishing out innovative dance rock is influenced by the brilliance of PiL. With a real which last act of the day to see dilemma Debs and I opt for ARCTIC MONKEYS hoping that they will be on top form and use that wit to connect with us punters. They were pretty competent and played a good set but it was just that - competent rather than enthralling. No connection with the audience despite a bit of chat and to be honest a bit disappointing. I'm sure some thought the opposite and I guess that's what's great about music - one man's Lydon is another man's Stewart. We head up to the Park catching the finale of Chic at West Holts and a great duo in the bed tent playing rootsy blues on harp and guitar. A little further up we meet our buddies at the Stonebridge where we are treated to a fantastic DJ set then live set by JAGWAR MA. They pump out seriously retro happy clappy baggy tunes with a modern twist to bring us into the 21st century. Fast slow jumpy and skanky it's all a big mix - in a very very good way. We then bop away whilst one of The Horrors DJs starting with Hawkwind (or a cover Ramsay claims) during which when dancing a top hatted guy jumps on me with arms outstretched massive smile shouting "Hawkwind!!" gleefully then putting down funk soul and bagginess in the same set. Eventually we dance our way out of the Stonebridge and it's hometime for the stragglers.

Saturday morning is hot and as I stroll up to the local toilets I notice piles of soda stream bulbs, or I guess nitrous oxide, on the floor next to spent balloons. Watching people take it puzzles me as although it's meant to make you laugh and short term euphoric which admittedly it did when I took it and then seemed to turn my bladder into the size of a very small balloon but to be honest most groups sat around taking it look pretty damn miserable to me like grown up glue sniffers snorting away at a rubber bag. There's an infestation of these at all festivals now along with what seems like a re-emergence of poppers. I guess as they are legal then they probably don't (directly) fund warfare unlike a lot of illegals but the environmental impact must be worse than any other sort of high. Coupled with the obvious danger to Eavis' cows munching on them they should be banned from Glastonbury. If you want a laugh go to the circus tent, if you want a 2 minute euphoria see some decent band. Glue sniffing for the middle classes. Bloody short haired hippies. As you can see by that rant I hadn't woken in the best of moods and I apologise to my festie buddies if I brought them down at all and also apologise to those indulging in a little harmless legal high taking. At least they don't menacingly sponge you for ten pence like glue sniffers. So in a great mood and with the hot sun beating down on my pale skin giving me sun stroke we wander up to the Park to see MELODY'S ECHO CHAMBER who are sombre and depressing not helping my mood. As Debs and I wander off to find shade, yes it's that hot, and to escape Melody and her moody chamber I glance half longingly at spent bulbs and balloons wondering if they'd perk me up. After a while laying together under a spreading chestnut tree, no, not laying in the biblical sense even if it is Glasto, Debs and I up towards the green fields. To be fair to Melody she sounded OK at a distance. After braving the sweltering barren plains of Pilton we arrive at the holy ground and ancient stone circle and once again seek shelter from the beating sun. As we rest Ramsay and Jo wander past and after sharing an environmentally friendly can of cider up and mooch around the Green Fields looking at the weird and wonderfulness of it all and meeting up with Mark and Claire. This is why there's nothing else like Glastonbury and really highlights the lack of sponsorship and corporateness. Which other festival would give a prime pitch which thousands of people pass to someone who makes small candle powered boats out of sardine tins selling them from his old style traveller caravan the proceeds going to a water mill renovation. Anywhere else it would be a horrible sugary fizzy drinks company or at the very least some organic yoghurt company. I really must buy a boat some year. Having been chilled out and cheered up at the Green Fields we decide to have a look around Shangri La whilst it's quiet which seems odd but none of us are sure we'll be bothered to trek over with the crowds and queue up for hours after midnight. Just as we're discussing whether we can get cocktails at Shangri-La we stumble across a Latin field and clutching our newly mixed Mojitos we listen to a latin band and watch some dance instructors and their pupils jigging around the dance floor. The dance floor gets busier as more are drawn to the music and Jo gets dragged, OK, easily persuaded, to take the arm of a local twinkle toes who impresses with some smart moves. Finishing the mojitos we get to Block 9. The building creations here are amazing and lead to a lot of debate about whether all of them are taken down and put up every year or not. Large block of flats with a tube train crashed into it and modern apartments gone end of world like something out of a William Burroughs novel. Then into Shangri La with a Heaven and Hell theme. It certainly looks hellish and with the searing heat it really is like being in a Burroughs storyline. Then we reach an oasis of loveliness stumbling into a dance area filled with heavy soul and start dancing along with a like minded and obviously happy crowd. The guy sorting us all out is the great NORMAN JAY and we groove along like it's a 1970s disco. Having seen Norman out to wild applause we strut back to the John Peel tent but as Daughter are not that impressive Debs and I cut loose to catch the end of Elvis Costello before catching up with Rams and Jo again to get a prime position for the much anticipated PRIMAL SCREAM. We're right down the front in the golden circle as you'll be able to see on YouTube and catch Ramsay (but where are the rest of us?!). The Primals take the stage and launch straight into the Hawkwind tribute and new song 2013 which is brilliantly psychedelic complete with seering sax breaks. A brilliant start. The set carries on from there and keeps us rocking all the way through til they tell us to get them off baby with the help of Haim. They finish with the exceptional Come Together which was a suitable way to release us from the excitement and sums up the Glastonbury spirit of community. Then it's a 90 minute wait for the headliners and as I can't handle the heaving throng for over an hour of roadies dicking about on stage I persuade Debs to leave too and fight, literally sometimes, well would've been if the sense of community wasn't so strong, our way to a bit of crowd where we can sit down. Still pretty close albeit a bit to the side but with the great sound system doesn't matter too much. I wasn't sure about seeing the next band  when they were announced as don't tend to like the mega headliners but as I've not seen them before and they started the year I was born and very unlikely to get the chance to see them again and because Exile on Main Street has given me so much listening pleasure. THE ROLLING STONES take the stage to tumultuous applause and launch into Jumpin' Jack Flash which gets us all doing just that. From then on every song is a classic reminding me of old school discos where you know every word. It's Only Rock and Roll But I Like It becomes a set chant amongst the crowd and a few songs in Mick tells us he wandered about the site yesterday and wrote this song Glastonbury Girl (new lyrics to old song) although how he did that in disguise god only knows. Which brings us onto that deity's nemesis as they launch into Sympathy for the Devil and the massive phoenix atop the Pyramid rears up to stretch and flap it's wings whilst belching fire across the top of the audience. The song's wooo wooo refrain takes over as the festival chant which was still heard at random times until we'd all departed on the Monday. The band are incredibly energetic and whatever Jagger takes can I have some too. Or at the very least what Richards has for breakfast. They come back for an encore of what must be an ironically intended You Can't Always Get What You Want as we all just have just had just that and then just as ironic I Can't Get No Satisfaction which I think we all have had too. So I did enjoy them a lot but won't go over the top and say they were the best rock and roll band ever to strut the earth. Pretty damn good for a bunch that started playing the year I was born though. Debs and I trundle up to the Park and the very top at that to the Crows Nest to meet Ramsay and Jo where we get back to some electronic focussed tunes courtesy of the great TELEMAN who are as understated as Mick and Keith are overstated. Enjoyed them a lot and outside chatting to the drummer told them I'd look out for them in London which is more than I promised Jagger. After them we are treated to TOY which are a band I've seen a few times before and to be honest thought a bit iffy. When I tell that to one of them afterwards I get unmerciful criticism from Ramsay and Jo for being such an arse, if honest. Anyways this time in an intimate venue their first promise of Hawkwind with a Stranglers rhythm section (sounds heavenly doesn't it? appropriate as at the very top of the festival) comes through and they can't strut about too much as even turning round on that stage is hard for them. I do enjoy them this time and must catch them again. If possible in a club with 50 people in it like tonight. Following this we mooch about chatting and checking out the lower Park clubby areas Rabbit Warren and Stonebridge Bar.

Last day. How quickly it's gone. Let's pack it in today and we're up early for another scorching day to the John Peel stage to see SUUNS who are a little too electronic and depressing for either me or Debs so we leave our mates and trek to Avalon to see a Ju recommended 14 piece gypsy style ensemble called THE DESTROYERS. These guys play everything from brass to what I think is a hurdy gurdy (something with strings or keys and a windup handle). They play fast furious gypsy, celtic, proper old English style folk and eastern european jump around cossack dance style. They look great and are obviously enjoying themselves and so are the audience. Great stories too the best being a strange tale about how their big tuba was arrested by the boys in blue. Debs and I then wander around looking at stalls and people watching which to be fair we do a lot of despite this blog concentrating on the bands we see. And sitting around a lot in front of or outside stages chatting and soaking up the Glastonbury atmosphere which is much better for the soul than carnivorous chicken soup. After a delicious veg and daal curry (we do eat too) we get to Left Field to see BILLY BRAGG'S RADICAL ROUNDUP featuring rotating turns of folky low key soulful tunes by Billy himself, then STE McCABE playing hard core rock guitar over backing tracks, then GRACE PETRIE playing sad or angry folk one about farewell to welfare which near brought tears to my eyes. Nipping out for wees and the most entertaining is the inimitable BEANS ON TOAST who sings hilarious and witty songs his Glastonbury Girl one going down predictably well and a lot better than Mick's effort last night and also another he wrote about Glastonbury a few months ago when he thought he wasn't going to be invited to play and was angry about the whole thing and wrote the classic lyric fuck Billy Bragg, fuck Strummerville, fuck Emily Eavis and fuck her old man too. Billy took that pretty well considering. So we see the most invective lyrics directed at the Glasto faithful on the most right on stage during a folk set. Good on yer Beans. From that we go see the past master of invective the right honourable Johnny Lydon nee Rotten fronting up the brilliant PUBLIC IMAGE LIMITED who put on the best rock dance reggae electronica crossover set of the weekend and whilst most of the tunes are a few decades old put into stark relief their influence on a lot of the bands here whether they be classed as rock or dance. I think that Django have been listening to early PiL for sure. And you can tell the Hawkwind influence on Johnny too. OK so the audience was not the youngest of the weekend, and that includes the Stones audience, but we loved it and they got a fair few people dancing madly despite the heat. Having found our festie buddy pair (editorial note, mostly when I refer to we it's either me or Debs or just as often us 2 plus Ramsay and Jo) we all scamper off to the Pyramid getting distracted by various stalls including a jumble sale style rummage box full of hats for a quid and we all come away with peaked hats like Jo has and she gets another just for luck. Now Jo's hat has already caused a lot of hilarity with us all trying it on with apparently me looking the funniest as the spitting image of Reg Varney and my mates forcing me to pretend to hand them out bus tickets. Back to front apparently I'm the spitting image of Benny Hill and Malcolm has already forced me to chase him around outside the Crows Nest in an exaggerated way both singing the Benny Hill song. Christ knows what the balloon puffers thought we were doing but Malcolm seemed to enjoy it. So On The Buses hats in position on all four of us and sorting bogs and drinks we meet the aforementioned Malcolm and Lisa plus Mark and Claire at the Pyramid. It's great that the Awesome Eight are together (c'mon, every gang needs a cool name) and we settle back metaphorically to watch the smilyest band of the weekend that are VAMPIRE WEEKEND. They launch into the Mink De Ville style Cousins and the crowd are sold already. A latiny indie New York rock set is just what we need in the sun only slightly hampered by Malcolm yelling about how sweaty the bassist was. To be fair he was and why wear a blue shirt when you're taking the Glasto main stage in front of 50,000 people. Also everyone around us thought he was hilarious. Malcolm that is. Hopefully the band couldn't hear Malc but the only one not smiling was indeed the bassist. After the Vamps we part company in the crowed and eschewing James Blake Debs and I make our way past the Editors at the Other Stage to the Left Field again to see a stormingly  energetic and high voltage rock and roll set by KATE NASH. Undoubtably the hardest rock of the weekend with her great drummer and guitarists who are a brilliant foil to her whimsically vitriolic lyrics and her soft girly going on rabid punk singing. Blown away yet again and Debs loved it too. After more hanging out and food we trek up to the Park meeting Malcolm and Lisa on the way then meet Ramsay and Jo as Cat Power are finishing at 10pm. According to the programme the Park Stage seems to close at 10 tonight but those long in the Glastonbury tooth know the score - there's always a big surprise headliner up here and tonight is definitely the night with a big gap after Cat. The crowd are hanging around in hungry anticipation for the finale and laughing about the poor sops watching Mumford and Bloody Sons way down below us in Glasto corporateland if such a thing exists. The roadies clear the stage and leave it bare so can only be one headliner who has already had a ridiculous amount of hype about where and when he's playing this weekend. They must be clearing a space for Daft Punk. We're licking our lips then Malcolm points out that the stage monitors and all cables are going. It must be rumour mark two which is that David Bowie will bring all his own equipment, or play an acoustic set. As more stuff is removed Malc's analysis (gleaned from security guard) proves right - they say over the PA that there is NO guest slot this year. Whhhaaa? The crowd can't believe it. A few boos but mainly dogged standing around refusing to believe that Daft Punk won't duet with Bowie pretty damn soon. Gazing down at the site I'm thinking that missing the XX ain't that bad and Bobby Womack might've had an off day and as for System 7 and Eat Static that's just too retro. At least we get to meet up with Julia and we all climb the hill to the Crows Nest for a last evening of seeing bands in a very small tent with a very good bar if you like rum and orange and a lot of lovely people with the best view on the site with all of Glastonbury in all it's glory laid out before us. At this moment it's the best view on the planet - what could be better than looking at the lights mayhem and fire belching Arcadia whilst chatting with friends atop the world. Gorgeous. We nip into the tent to see BOXED IN who after tell me they're a London band and play a great grungy electronic sound although at this point don't take this review as the reality of the situation. That's what they sounded like to me. Next up are SUUNS who sound better in a small tent than at JP but to keep Debs company and not minding much at all I spend most of the set listening outside. It's the epitome of Glastonbury that we're watching a band that drew a few thousand for a lunchtime gig at the massive John Peel circus tent and now they have about 20 in a canvas army mess tent twelve hours later. The band looked just as happy though. We spend some time outside after the band come off listening to soul from their sound system with me dancing a bit probably looking the fool but who cares. Dancing to classic soul looking at the best view in the world with people I love. Bliss.

A final trek home and final laugh about our hats and goodbyes to the guys with the gazebo who have a lift picking them up at 4am. A good nights sleep followed by 6 of us walking together back to the cars (a first I think). I say 6 cos Mark and Claire are glamping in a special field complete with showers. Maybe they won the lottery. Get out of Pilton the fastest ever and great run until the A303 grinds to a halt and so I jump off to go through Stockbridge and seeing our friend Frank's 4x4 outside his house we trip in for a while to chat and have much needed strong italian coffee. Then it's not a bad ride back to pick up the kiddie from lovely Mary and after a cuppa make it back home to flop into a chair and search for Ramsay on YouTube and catch up on bands we did and didn't see on the amazingly comprehensive BBC iPlayer. Did they record everything on every stage?

Highlights? I could say Jagwar Ma's surprise bagginess, Alt-J's dubby trippy set tho my companions won't agree, or rocking Primals then Stones, or danceable PiL. But to be honest all of those could have been replaced by others and I would have enjoyed myself just as much with the same bunch of friends. But taking my posse away would've left me a lonely old git watching some aged rockers in a muddy field. So although it sounds a little corny thanks to the rest of you for letting me buy your tickets back in the autumn. And I hope you'll all let me grab the tickets for next year too. One of the Guardian bags this year says "last night I made a friend for life who's name is..." obviously to be soon forgotten but in the place where you do make a new friend for life every night and forget them the next it's great to spend it with true mates. Best Friends Forever.

Postscript. Hmm, did I get a bit loved up and euphoric in that last paragraph? That's what comes of snorting my daughter's recent birthday helium balloons whilst writing this. I highly recommend the lovely warm euphoric feeling they give you. Try taking one and immediately tell someone you love them and you too will have a BFF.

A final word. There's a lovely quote on the back of the programme this year... Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away. A wonderful thought summing up the utopian community of Glastonbury and it's wonderfulness. But like the iron fence around the site and heavy security stopping people jumping over that fence to reach our well constructed utopia all things have a yin and yang. Debbie was going to put that up that wonderful quote at the health centre she works in, until she realised it might not go down that well with asthmatics...