The 37 Highs And Lows Of Going To Glastonbury
The Worthy Farm experience explained.
You head down in a convoy with all your mates, tunes blasting all the way.
You arrive onsite early, and find a good spot to pitch your tent.
The ground is dry, everyone's in high spirits. You're all set for the weekend of your life.
Oh look, it's lunchtime. Surely not too early for a small sharpener?
That said, you want to pace yourself. Not like your mate, who's already blazed through half his stash.
So you take a stroll up to the Healing Fields to sample that legendary Glastonbury "vibe".
There are hippies everywhere. At least one of them is naked.
OK, time to see some bands. You look at the line-up. So much good stuff.
But wait, there's a clash!
Which means you're going to miss one of your favourite bands.
Then - disaster - the heavens open.
Please, God, no. Not another muddy one.
It doesn't look like it's ever going to stop. The ponchos come out. Smiles vanish.
After a while you're so wet and muddy you just resign yourself to it.
But, no - a miracle! It's just a shower. The sun reappears. Rejoice.
Saturday night: everyone peaks.
You watch the headline act on the Pyramid Stage, and they're pretty good.
Except they play loads of stuff off their new album, instead of the hits everyone wants to hear.
So you make a break for the dance tent, which you imagine is going to be like this.
But you're not really feeling it, so it's more like this.
Plus, people are so wasted they keep barging into you, and spilling your drink.
Now what? You make the long trek up to Shangri-La, and it's initially amazing.
Only trouble is, 170,000 people have had the same idea, so there are huge queues.
You get caught in the inevitable human crush. Tempers start to fray.
But then someone breaks out some fresh booze.
You get a second wind. The rest of the night's a blur.
You watch the sun come up from the Stone Circle, and it's every bit as beautiful as you'd hoped.
Sunday morning: the hangover strikes. A pitiless sun beats down on your tent.
You crawl outside just in time to catch the traditional lunchtime novelty act on the Pyramid.
Your friends are too hungover to speak, so you just shuffle around the site, staring blankly at things.
Then you hear a rumour about an incredible secret act on the Park Stage.
So you head on up there, only to find it was all nonsense.
Still, you're determined to squeeze every last drop of fun out of the weekend.
So you hurl yourself into that hedonistic, Sunday night last hurrah. And it's glorious.
Monday morning. Comedown time. Nothing to do now but pack up your tent.
And return to mundane reality.
But the worst part? It's a whole year before you can do it all over again.
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