Well, as can be
seen by the photo below, it’s all getting rather real round about now. In a
little over 5 weeks or so (is that what it is) I’ll be waking up for what will
the last full day of Glastonbury 2013. For something that’s preoccupied my thoughts
for nearly the past two years, it’s a bit of a scary thought. It’ll be like
that last day of your holidays or the end of Christmas Day when you’re a child
i.e. cos it’ll soon be over you better make the most of it.
And while I know
that it’ll be a good time at Glastonbury there’s always that slight bit of
uncertainty. It might not fully live up to the hype. Mostly that hype is
self-imposed, I know but there’s a lot of people out there say (like I do) that
it’s the best place on earth . But there’s just that nagging doubt in the back of
my mind.
What if the
weather is truly awful for the whole 5 days? I don’t buy into that macho “you’ve
never experienced Glasto till you’ve been through the mud” and “it’s all part
of it, the true experience”. I went through the mud last year and it was
fucking miserable. The whole place seemed to cheer up when, on the Sunday, it
dried up and started to get sunny. I’ve been to Preston in the rain too many
times to eulogise about bad weather. Driving rain, mud and faffing about with wellies
and plastic ponchos doesn’t add diddly squat- it’s just a pain in the arse. No,
give me shorts and sandals any day of the (last week of) June and I’ll be more
than happy. If it’s the only time in the year that my ageing calves get an
airing, then it’ll do for me.
On top of all
that, there’s a very faint feeling that I’ve got that the music may not be
completely top-notch. I have discounted Mumford & Sons from the get-go and seeing
Mick ’n Keef’s (sic) travelling end-of -the-pier show doesn’t exactly fill me
with unalloyed joy either. Having said that, there’s enough other stuff
floating around that should be worth seeing (Chic, Public Enemy, Vampire
Weekend) and things that I might just catch up with unexpectedly. (Again, it
will be miles easier if the place isn’t full of that sticky mud so I can flit from
place to place with ease).
Getting there
and back. Last time I drove and we got so badly lost that I ended up in the
middle of Bristol in the rush hour on the way down and completely in the wilds
in the middle of the night in the way back. It shouldn’t be difficult in the
days of Google Maps and sat nav to get the 200 miles or so from Liverpool without
a hitch but I managed it. Twice. This time I’m going to do it properly. Plan in
advance etc. Bet I’ll start seeing road signs in Welsh though.
But for all of
this and more that’s just nagging away slightly, I do know that the moment I
manage to get the tent up (that’s another tale) and sit with the first coffee
and ciggie, it’ll be brilliant. It’ll be like being home.
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