Now then. We were talking Glastonbury. Where else in the world could you enjoy - all at once - the immersive weirdness of giant babies and horses with skulls heads alongside legendary country singer Dolly Parton, nostalgic raving to Fatboy Slim, the reverberating breakbeats of Stanton Warriors and hypnotic sounds of Massive Attack, a naked sauna and mini Stonehenge, morning yoga with chakra alignment, the addictive harmonies of Clean Bandit, aerial acrobatics and enormous mechanical monsters, dancing to Nero under a giant flame-throwing spider, the haunting melodies of Lana Del Rey, epic anthems of Arcade Fire, just-can't-help-but-smile tunes of 3 Daft Monkeys and jazz vibes of Paulo Nutini (and of course his very talented band)??
Oh. Did I mention, FOR FREE.
Tuesday night was one filled with new found chums - Tom from Northern Island; crazy dancer, super fun. Nick, a fondness for lumberjack shirts (and quite probably lumberjacks). James had a top hat and a 23 year old's swagger (but then, he was 23). Elysia, James' flatmate and a cross between Raggedy Ann and Charlie Dimmock (only, with suitable lingerie).
Biggy Smalls and I went our separate ways on Tuesday night, so the above gang and I sloped off in the direction of the Green Fields. After encountering a confused hippy in her rustic RSPB shack and questioning her thoroughly, we lost James and Elysia. Apt really. Losing Elysia in the Green Fields (of Elysium).
The gang and I pressed on, to Block 9, with all the immersive fierceness of Boomtown, where we encountered for the first time the hidden crew bar in which we were to spend many hours of Glastonbury over the coming days.
It. Was. PACKED.
Slipping in, flashing our crew wristbands and not knowing entirely whether we were supposed to be there or not, I quickly found some likely fellas to chat to. One, the older, was a setter-upper and take-downer. He'd been on site for 6 months. That's when they start building the long drops (which are excellent by the way - I mean, for festivals. You just don't breathe through your nose. Easy. And trust me, all those squats and you won't need to hit the gym after you get back). The younger, Jack, was 19. Said he'd hopped the fence...
The others wanted to head off after a little while, so we departed into the night and onto another memory.
To be continued...