It’s not quite how I had imagined Glastonbury would be (Picture: OLI SCARFF/AFP via Getty Images)
It was 11pm, Coldplay – who in fairness were great – had just finished their set and it was raining. Again.
I was cold, tired, and just wanted my bed.
But rather than closing a door on the world and sinking into clean sheets and a soft mattress, I was trudging along muddy makeshift paths to find our tent.
As we searched I remember fearing that I’d fallen victim to the common stories of people having their tents wee’d in – or worse, destroyed and set fire to – by fellow campers enjoying a no-holds-barred weekend.
Luckily, when we did locate our temporary lodgings at least an hour later, it was still in one piece. But I knew I’d still have a sleepless night ahead of me where I’d be woken by the noise of people who sounded like they were enjoying themselves much more than I was.
It’s not quite how I had imagined Glastonbury would be.
Aged 28, I’d had ‘Glasto’ on my bucket list for some years – especially after other friends had declared how life-changing it was.
So, in 2010, despite not being entirely convinced it would be worth the then £195 ticket price, I joined my uni friends in losing a morning of our lives to desperately refreshing the website as we tried to get hold of tickets for the 2011 event.
In previous years nobody had seemed to be too bothered by bad weather (Picture: Ellen Manning)
There was the inevitable rush of excitement when we realised we’d actually got our hands on some of the coveted tickets, albeit slightly marred by the huge dent it was about to make in my bank balance, and the stress we’d gone through trying to get them.
As the festival weekend got closer though, the excitement built. I was particularly excited for the likes of Beyoncé and Elbow and to soak up what so many people had declared a life-affirming, unrivalled experience.
That feeling was only slightly marred by the weather forecast’s suggestion that no, we weren’t going to have the sunniest weekend of our lives and could well end up being another Glastonbury year that made the headlines more for the mud than the music.
In previous years nobody had seemed to be too bothered by bad weather – and some even made wading around in the mud look fun, and like the ‘real’ Glasto’ experience, so I girded my loins and refused to be put off.
Yet when the day finally came to join the tens of thousands of people heading down to Worthy Farm, my reservations once again reared their head.
I was emotionally exhausted and in desperate need of a shower (Picture: Ellen Manning)
As we sat in hours of tailbacks trying to get on to the site, I wondered if that £200-odd quid we’d spent on tickets – not to mention the probably £200 at least …read more
Source:: Metro
