User:Simpo

Tuesday

7am. Among those suited and ready for the working day, arrives your protagonist, decked with a heavy rucksack with a tent and inflatable bed attached, and a bag with travel supplies. It is time to go to Glastonbury Festival.

http://i.imgur.com/bclEEBs.jpg

The journey down is as pleasant as it is uneventful. First to Manchester, then to Bristol, then to Westbury, then to Castle Cary, picking up more obvious festival goers as we go. The excitement builds. I'm quickly on to the shuttle bus from the last station, and it really is only minutes until I'm back home. The first sight of the vast festival site sends my pulse racing. We pull in, I grab my things, collect my wristband, and just like that, I am in Glastonbury Festival once again! It's eerily empty on a Tuesday, and I allow myself a moment to take it all in. What do you have in store for me this year?

I stomp toward the same crew campsite as last year, and just as I let myself think it's not as muddy as I feared, the crew area tells another story. Schlop schlop schlop, I wade in. I see a few faces from last year, which is genuinely nice, as they remember me and give me a hug or two. But the awful recent weather has clearly taken it's toll. Everyone's busy, wearing tired faces, lots of work still needs doing.

My tent set up, I take my customary hour to settle myself and acclimatise to my new home for the week. A group of lads seem slightly nervous, they are first timers to the work we are to do, and the festival itself. I sit down, open my first can, reassure them, and chat about the festival. Little do they know what lurks in my mind...

https://www.facebook.com/simpo.b/videos/vb.589500083/10157116281030084/?type=3&theater

https://www.facebook.com/simpo.b/videos/vb.589500083/10157116281250084/?type=3&theater

Right, time to see how things are looking. I head down the hill towards the Silver Hayes dance village, and sure enough, lots of work going on. But no mud! Past there is the protest wall and the new location for the John Peel stage, and, what I came for, the new Wood area. It's very pretty, with lights and art installations, and a secluded bar. Nice. Then past the Pyramid arena, where I chat to one or two peeps, the euphoric Glastonbury state of mind taking over as I go.

It's hard to describe if you haven't been, but it's the melting away of your anxieties, the sense you can do anything you want, and as if a greater force than your own has placed a bubble around the place, in which magic is real. As I head down round Kidz Field and Acoustic, this feeling makes me raise my arms to the air and grin. I'm spotted, and rather than being seen as an oddball, she just shouts "YES! YEEEES!" She knows. We all know! Everything is going to be great til Monday.

Through the site I go, past the first properly muddy parts around Theatre & Circus, all the way up through some heavy works traffic (unique to Glastonbury really) to the Stone Circle. Always a haven of quiet and tranquility even when things are getting crazy, I don't spend enough time here really. There's a few groups dotted about, I join one and crack another can open. A couple normal folk, a guitar player and her friend, and a couple on, I'd say, lots of MDMA and some light psychedelics. They make strong claims about knowing the weather we about to get. "THE DELUGE, THE DELUGE!" doesn't come. I should say we are at 5.30pm on the day before the gates open. We pass a joint round, listen to the beautiful sounds of Zara, and bathe in this wonderful glow.

https://www.facebook.com/simpo.b/videos/vb.589500083/10157116281420084/?type=3&theater

I get back to camp for induction, and it's a lot more slapdash than last year. It's cleaning toilets. I've not mentioned this. But, dear reader, I had to some time. Honestly, it's not as bad as it sounds, it's the compost toilets, they're mostly backstage, get taken care of a bit more, and the people in charge are laidback Aussie stoners mainly. The mantra is work hard play hard, but last year the hard play make the hard work do very strange things to my brain. I was kinda broken last year by Friday, but this year they promised less hours and less walking around. It was the walking and physical effort that did me in. I could not walk properly at all by that Friday. But I'd done it. I got through it. And that meant I could come again this year, and I didn't have to pay a deposit. Yes, I was thinking what you're thinking. I was going to see how the first shift went before deciding whether to do a runner or not.

So we're free again after that. A chill at camp, and then I take that group of lads to a nearby Arcadia crew bar as night falls. Arcadia make that giant flame throwing spider you might have seen. They're top people. And they let all crew into their bar. The lads seem taken back by it. It is very extravagant for a private bar in a field. It's like a good bar in Manchester's Northern Quarter, with loads of outdoor space too. There's also a hidden away faux railway tunnel, with a grand piano sat at the back. We have a good sing and a dance, then it's to bed, 10am shift start time tomorrow after all. A great day really, especially considering the gates haven't even opened yet. Night night spider, see you later...

http://i.imgur.com/HjivEs3.jpg

Wednesday

BEEP BEEP, BEEP BEEP, or whatever my alarm does. It's weird to have a wake-up time at Glastonbury. Feels kinda unnatural. But here we go, 9am, an hour til my shift, time to get my shit together. Free breakfast in our campsite, nice. Me and Kaitlyn, who is getting paid by the way, await the other two who are on our shift. They don't come. They probably never arrived? I don't know. Since our zone hasn't really opened to the public at this point, we wait ten minutes to see which zone is in need of reinforcements, and go off to help them.

Ohhhh, it's got muddier overnight, as it rained and people arrived. Good job I put my wellies on. The head of zone 6 wants her crew of four to learn their route, and where all the toilet blocks are, so we're just sent on little errands, such as labelling some of the blocks. It's a very easy shift, especially compared to last year, but the relentless walking round does get to you. But again, free meals is very cool, getting to see behind the scenes stuff is cool. But I'm not feeling the cameraderie as much as last year. And near the end of the shift I start to get The Fear that even with less hours and more precautions, the work could ruin me. After 7 hours of lots of walking, a nice lunch and cleaning a few toilets (Really not as bad as you think, especially the compost ones, and you're kind of desenstised very quickly), we're back at the campsite for 5, and I shower (cool). Wellies off, walking boots on, lets get out there and have some fun.

I've been texting one trio of friends who are staying in the campervan fields, with no response as yet apart from telling me they've had a quick tour and gone back to their camper, and another, fairy young group, of which I know two... they're having a nightmare, still on their coach. Time to kill some time, and what better place to do that than Glastonbury! First can of the day opened and more in the bag (No arena system at Glastonbury, you can take your booze anywhere), I just have a general bimble around. I see someone painting the scene, Link a lad get egged on to slide the superslide by a load of people, go down by the Theatre and Circus fields, admire the scene as the sun comes out, it's just a really really happy place to be.

But still nothing from my friends. I have another free meal and then chill near the entrance gate by the campervan fields, as I've been walking around since 10am and I'm a bit bloody knackered really. Hmm. As much as Glastonbury on your own can be fun, I'd like to see some friendly faces. Still nothing, getting dark, and the first thing I'd like to see is John Fairhurst down in the Rum Shack. I head down to the "Naughty Corner" where said Shack is, and get a frisson of excitement as, even before it gets going properly, it's a very exciting part of Glastonbury to be. There's a bar with Day Of The Dead characters ambling round causing mischief, a venue in a cave with a working waterfall, an imposing Aztec Temple venue, and that there Rum Shack. And this is only one of the areas that makes up the South East corner, it's incredible really.

They're running late, and I watch someone called Gecko (7/10), a sort of Jamie T of old, maybe less cool but more fun, with songs that tell stories of festivals past. It really hits the spot as the alcohol keeps flowing, and the feeling of being tired is replaced with that brilliant feeling of being at Glastonbury. I feel that spark in the air, even on Wednesday. As he finishes, I finally get word from my pals that they're coming back in, so I run back up to meet them, just as the opening ceremony fireworks blast into the air, on a larger scale and more impressive than before. What a nice moment as I meet some friends for the first time since getting here.

Straight away we walk into some wonderful weirdness. A previously sterile looking 25 foot tall white structure springs into life, with projection mapping of various mystical fantastical scenes, an orchestral soundtrack, and live dancers on ropes all over it. It's quite a beautiful thing to see for the few of us milling round near Gate C. A couple of my friends are transfixed. One of these friends, Jay, has been twice before, like me, but the other two, Tim and Max, are first timers. Loving life. At this point I'm informed they're all at varying stages of inebriation, mostly on that old favourite ketamine. Ket has never been my kind of drug, and certainly not one I've ever seeked out. I'm offered some. I take some. It's 11pm. My next shift starts at 8am. We head down to the naughty corner.

The route down is one of the muddiest on site, but we just about find our way through in our boots, so we can't be too bad. We go to the Aztec area I described before, and Tim and Max are dutifully impressed by the scenes they've managed to build in a field. The brilliant Day of the Dead bar has a massive queue, and fuck queuing for ages at Glastonbury quite frankly. Rum Shack has a latino band on, we've missed John Fairhurst. Boys don't fancy it. So what's next over the railway line?

Shangri La. Shangri bloody La. When I first came to Glastonbury, a couple of veterans ensured we waited til it got dark on Thursday to go there, which is when it gets PROPERLY going. We timed our MDMA come-up superbly for entering this utterly nutty... place. Thing. Exp (I know, cringeworthy but also worthy) Experience. As this hubbub of light and noise entered our view, it was the first time like I'd left this planet and gone somewhere else. Sweeping through these deep red alleyways, and corridors, which led to mini-clubs and red light district-style windows into live actors portraying debauched scenes, all the while euphorically grinning at it all. One of the best nights of my life.

But this wasn't the time. Ol' Shangri La has a soft opening on Wednesday, and it was tough to avert the admiring gazes of the two newbies, as we shuffled past it and away down the old railway line. Because of my experiences down this area of the festival, I have have warm fuzzy memories of this path, draped in trees and dappled light, lined with partied-out folk headed to bed. Strangely very pleasant.

But we're not headed to bed, it's still early...ish? Midnight! How did that happen? Ah yes, drugs. I fancy chilling for a bit at the treehouse bar with a disco ball, but all of a sudden, Jay spontaneously takes us to the left down a path! Iiiit's dark. Iiiit's muddy, there may not be anything going on down here. But we're here now. Jay comically apologises, says someone else has to make the next decision! He thought it'd be a laugh, not a blind trek through a swamp! We trudge for a short while through the various paraphernalia you find in strange corners of Glastonbury, then suddenly a decent sized tent with a band on. But it's full, and we don't want this bright light in the state we're in. On we go.

This is more like it. A dimly lit stage, with a few benches around. An exercise bike that powers the whole thing. A guy playing Bob Dylan style acoustic tunes. Spliffs being casually passed round. This will do. We don't get a seat for a while, but we find our happy place here, sinking in to the very hippy vibes, that feel like they've been happening here for decades. A guy from the back brings a chair out, I sit happily on it and thank him. "Um, sorry dude, my mate was just gonna chop some fat lines out on that." I shift, and some places eventually become available.

Oh man, Glastonbury, I love you. Only Wednesday and this feeling of belonging here is so strong. The freedom of it all, the shared sense of cameraderie, the most communal experience of anybody's lifetime. I start my shift in seven hours. Can't think about it. Another can, another few tokes. Sink into this warm glow. Tim now has a hippy resting his arms and head on him. Quite comical. BUT. Can't go hard too early. I take a pic of some of this stage's artwork and we skidaddle.

Through the treehouse bar I mentioned, the disco ball, looks beautiful in the middle of the night. Proper stunning. I love you Glastonbury. I can't work in six hours. I can't I cant. We get to a crossroads where we must part. "Guys, I'm probably gonna do a runner tonight. See you tomorrow?" "See you tomorrow!" Back to camp, past the Pyramid, past the still pumping Beat Hotel, where I see a decent camping spot nearby, through the Silver Hayes dance village, aaand back.

A few people still up at 2.30am, like I say it's laid back here and as long as you turn up for your shift they're happy. But they're probably not working the morning shift. I can't pack up and go while there are people to see me, so I charge my phone easily for the last time this week, share a couple spliffs, a little drink, all the while knowing I'm abandoning them soon. Inside my tent I pack up my things, and kinda nod off for a bit on top of my bags simultaneously. I'm awake. It's 4.30am, getting light. There is no noise outside. I quickly pack my tent, pick up my phone, drop off my hi-vis vest, and GET THE FUCK OUTTA THERE, all powered by the adrenalin of what I'm doing.

I knew if I'd stayed for another day or two I'd be invested in the work, because it does help the festival, and I LOVE the festival. But from the freedom and fun I'd experienced on the bloody WEDNESDAY, the festival was calling me to burst free. Plus they trusted me from last year and didn't ask for s deposit. Also, as the head honcho said in his induction speech, "This isn't a prison, you've got your wristband, you can leave if you like. All I'm saying is, 'please don't'" Sorry pal, I did.

I fancied camping close to Gate A for quick coach getaway on Monday morning, so I trek up there, then over to that place near Beat Hotel I saw before. All in all, it was a much longer/tougher trek than I'd imagined. An exhausted, overloaded, sweaty, strung-out Simpo sets his tent out for the festival at 5am Thursday morning, pumps his bed up, and almost immediately crashes to sleep.

Glastonbury awaits.