Glastonbury Abey

First rule of Glastonbury Festival is what goes on at Worthy Farm stays in the Pilton fields. Well, the interesting bits otherwise this recap would be very short. This is to protect the not so innocent. Yes Simon, I mean you. As there were at least three Simons with me you can each make your mind up as to what I'm thinking about. Each has a story I can narrate round the Strummerville camp fire next year. Anyways I cant ramble as there's too much to write and each act's summary will be just that. I obviously have to tell you about travel which due to rail strikes I travel by van with Pete and Wendy, who also came up with the ticket in the resale all of us having a disappointment back in October 2020, so we arrive Wednesday in tropical heat and pitch. We meet up with Olly (one of the Simons) and Cameron to mooch about, listen to an extremely pissed ambulance driver and listen to a bit of folky music. Thursday is hot too and we saunter off to the big tree in the Pyramid Stage field for the pink vodka cocktails party which inevitable ends up in carnage and getting very drunk. Talk about mixing your drinks and worrying about getting Covid. Nah. We try to see Melanie C but she's inside a packed Williams Green tent so after me and Olly squeeze our way as far forward as we can we dance about to some great sounds, shurely not just the vodka+, with the kids before heading out to that unlikely haven of sanity Shangri La. We meet everyone else there including Jo and Ramsay (another Simon) and Jules and Simon (another) and John and Scottie. I think. I know that we hear Beans on Toast deliver a fantastic set of funny and poignant songs as he ever does and then the brilliant Kae Tempest who free forms with a ad libbing guitarist through an amazing set. From the sublime to the ridiculous next up are Pigsx7 who have a muffled sound at first but still get the crowd going and I somehow end up in the mosh pit where the sound is either better or I don't care. As I'm here I hang around with the others to witness the force of nature that is the Nova Twins and their even more energetic mosh. Having survived that, it's not falling under feet that worries me, I've been there before, but having a cardiac which the pissed ambulance driver told me I have a 8.3% chance of survival, probably less in a Nova Twins mosh pit, I have a vague memory of going up to the Park with Ramsay and Jo for some well earned chilling out time. I'm sure someone's got a photo to prove it. Friday is a little cooler with rain in the night I think but this year I don't get rained on at all, except one morning during a run to the toilet, which is a first. Pete, Wendy and I go see The Libertines on the Other Stage who start off like a pub rock band then slide towards Eddie and the Hot Rods but not as much fun. OK they were OK but not like their prime. I hang around for most of another Kae Tempest set and this time they are a bit more structured. Another great one. I never tire of them. Then hot foot to the Park to see a brilliant rocking set by Wet Leg who I've wanted to see for a while and didn't disappoint. Today is a Ramsay and Jo day and we watch Confidence Man who are a great happy party jump about disco funky house costume changing choreographed dance duo. Whether they'd translate outside of a sloping hill in the west country I'm not sure but great today. Then we toddle off to Supergrass who reel out the classics and like many ageing bands it's a bit like a covers band. Not as vital and edgy as when they first sang about being caught by the fuzz F me was it really over quarter of a century ago? We exit early to see Robert Plant & Alison Krauss on the main stage only really cos Ramsay wants to see his lookalike Robert again (last time 1979 for chrissakes) but in the end their drawn out heavy blues is just what I needed and I enjoy it the most. Next to the Acoustic stage for a plugged in set of golden oldies by The Undertones who I probably last saw, ah, probably around 1979. Jesus we are old. It's a great tight set and we jump about even getting Jo reluctantly involved. A bit. It's Ramz and Jo day so a lot of hot footing and we skirt the top of the Pyramid Stage field seeing a bit of Sam Fender who sounded alright but don't warrant bold type. Someone who is definitely in bold type is Fat Boy Slim. We can't get in the Sonic tent but who cares we're outside next to a speaker surrounded by madly dancing smiley people offering drinks happy chats and general madness. Jo gets a shoulder dance to see Norman and we have a fantastic mad dancing time of it. On leaving a particularly smiley girl half my age who we were dancing with tells me I'm a lovely bloke and puckers up. I avoid the lips and kiss her on the cheek saying we're all lovely here. I should have asked her what she was on cos she was obviously out with the pink fairies possibly seeing a virile strutting young Adonis grooving in front of her rather than a grizzled grey bearded dad dancer. Having successfully negotiated Chemical Central we troop off to the new stage at the Glade to see Gong. This is 3rd choice as both The Damned and Chemical Brothers have pulled out due to "Covid in the camp". F their camp how much Covid do they think is going round us quarter of a million punters? Gutted the former aren't playing as was to be original line up. We see Gong instead and meet with Jon and Scottie. Great light show, music a bit downbeat and incredible strobes seeming to come up and around the audience. It all gets a bit much and we head off along the old railway track to bed. Saturday is a day to think about family as Lily-Rose is 20 and partying out in Ibiza apparently having the time of her life. I wander lonely as a cloud up to Strummerville to watch the flames flicker thinking of those who will never make another Glastonbury, reflecting that the ones I'm thinking of never came here anyway. Wandering through the green fields brings a special peacefulness before diving back into the madness of the throng. I accidentally catch The Longest Johns (very appropriate) who deliver a very witty and engaging folksy rock set full of Bristolian tales of piracy on the Severn. Then to a stage I particularly love and have fond memories of West Holts to catch Brass Against bringing brass based hip hop and punk to the countryside. Having just heard the USA Roe vs Wade verdict thousands of us chanting Fuck You I Won't Do What You Tell Me is particularly poignant. I have successfully herded all the cats together and not let any escape for enough time to get drinks in and to toast Lily-Rose's birthday. Live and direct from Glastonbury Lils! Most now sneak off whilst myself, Olly and Cameron witness possibly the weekend's highlights which is a fantastically off kilter thrash jazz tight musicianship pigeonhole us if you can set from the incredible Black Midi. Sheer brilliance. It's what Gong should have been last night. The ending was sublime with one of them shouting out What do you think of Tottenham to which quite a few of us replied like Pavlov's dogs Shit and then the refrain What do you think of Shite which elicited the appropriate response. Surprised. Dazed. Happy. Yes. It takes a while to come down from that but Sorry delivering a good dose of indie rock then Squid getting us to dance about up at the Park helps steady the keel. Billy Nomates is a very disappointing downer, great presence and lyrics but could do without the downbeat music but Yard Act picks me back up again. I go see Mura Masa via Arcadia and passing by Megan Thee Stallion with Rams and Jo and have Slow Thai thrown in for free for a couple of songs. We navigate the top of the main stage which is packed with punters listening to the awful dirge that is Paul McCartney and meet with Olly and others at Summertown to see a covers band with amyl sniffing punters. Shouldn't they be at the John Peel stage? Then it's off to Shangri La for a late night dose of Bob Vylan but it's so crowded in there we all get pissed off and decide to leave so it's back home past Arcadia where I linger for a while jigging about to the groove which I discover next day to be Calvin Harris who oddly Lily-Rose saw the day before in Ibiza. These DJs get around a fair bit. Sunday is the sort of day you are feeling a bit weathered but as it's the last you know you got to make the most of it. To that end it's to the Park to see a thrashingly great riot grrl set by Big Joanie and then a strangely danceable Warmduscher set. Both excellent. Eschewing Diana Ross cos she played at the recent jubilee I go see another surprising set by Fontaines DC. Fairly laid back and without the anger which to be fair was just what Sunday at the Other Stage needed. A great set nevertheless. Everyone troops back to the Park to see Jack White but it's too crowded, too hot and I never really rated him anyway. Great musician but just another rock god. I chill out in the shade and then venture into the late afternoon sun. After Jack finishes Ramsay, Jo, Simon and I go up to the Crows Nest which now has it's own big bar which has a crazy queue. Better when no one knew about the little tent on the hill but I guess you could say that about the festival as a whole. After chats and shared warm cider and vodkas we wander down and they head off. I stay with Olly and Cameron then Pete and Wendy for a lovely proper rocking set by Courtney Barnett tripping between indie, country and rock n roll. Afterwards Pete Wendy and me sit by the now deserted stage drinking and chatting before going into the Rabbit Hole. We don't queue for hours as they have VIP wristbands courtesy of Carl and Wendy blags my way in with them. It's OK in there with a couple of decent sound systems fighting it out opposite each other and a 1970s Alice in Wonderland soft porn film on which is disturbing and distracting. After a while I leave and as Arcadia is on my way back and Rams and Jo said they are there I do a circuit of the place and miraculously see their white sailors hats so have the last dance of the festival with them. A good way to end. Next day leisurely rise and then Pete Wendy and I drive into Castle Cary for a very decent pub lunch having chatted to an old boy at the bar that Pete can hardly make out what he's saying his accent is so thick and I can hardly believe what I'm hearing he's talking such nonsense. By the end of ordering food and drink he's coherent and Pete and him chat boats. A snarl up on the A303 is the only remarkable point of the journey back to London where Debbie invites Pete and Wendy in for roast potatoes, veg and salad. A great weekend. Same place same time next year? Depends on October I guess. Thanks for the tickets and travel Pete and Wendy. Thanks for the good times everyone. It was one of the best. If not....

None of the photos are mine but as none of my mates are professional photographers I guess I can use them. Random chronological order.

Happy Birthday Lils X

Black Midi

It was funny at the time, honest

Jo's verdict on Paul McCartney

Spot the difference

The most noticeable flag at Glastonbury Festival

Looking cool Simon

Fun in the Park

Pink vodka party leads to the inevitable

Wednesday evening

Sunday evening