Staying out for the summer

I really don't like this day. The day when roughly 200,000 people begin to descend on Worthy Farm for five days of fun in the sun. Okay, so normally it pisses it down and when that's not happening some drunk bloke's having a slash on your tent but still, some of the best days of my life have been at music festivals and, having done 10 Glastos, I still get more than a twinge of regret that I'm not heading down there today. Of course I could join the million or so who try to grab a ticket each year and I can remember doing just that when the festival really started getting popular in the noughties but the first time we went (1995, I did a mixtape - awww bless me - featuring some some of the hits of the day, hence the Dodgy clip above) we just wandered into HMV in Brum a few weeks beforehand and picked up a pair of tickets for £65 each. I've not looked for a while but I suspect you're now looking at £250 per ticket with all the ruddy booking fees on top, plus food and drink for 5 days, plus travel down there, plus money for 'shrooms from the dodgy hippy lurking in the hedge, in short Glasto can easily cost £600 a head and that's some serious wonga. It's big too. Massive in fact. And with that comes the problem of getting from A to B to see a particular band. Allow an hour or two and you might just make it. Oh yes, and there's the age old dilemma of two/three/four or more bands that you want to see being on at the same time. Given that Glasto has more stages than toilets (well it certainly felt like that back in the day) you can spend most of the festival just spinning around in a daze. Having said all that...damn, damn, damn...I STILL wish I was there. Bollocks. Oh well, tonight I'll have to make do with a BBQ and a Dodgy CD...I may even wee in a bucket and charge myself £9.99 for a can of Coke for that truly authentic festival experience. If you're going, have a blast.