Do you have a Glastonbury story to tell?

[wiskey]

see I've still got the picture in my head of you on the back of that landrover driving past grinning then raising the camera to your face, then grinning some more.

Just one of a trillion unique moments where two people having entirely different experiences collide - I seem to remember you had just had breakfast and I was on my way off a night shift

 

[friedaweed]

I used their loo... There were no dead bodies in it I can assure you

I knew it was Shirley Bassey

 

[free spirit]

Just one of a trillion unique moments where two people having entirely different experiences collide - I seem to remember you had just had breakfast and I was on my way off a night shift

are we thinking of the same photo?

 

[wiskey]

are we thinking of the same photo?

absolutely. But my memory might have mixed it up with another meeting.

I can probably find it but it's on a hard drive not this laptop.

 

[Ruby 1979]

Just one of a trillion unique moments where two people having entirely different experiences collide

I should use this as one of my chapter titles...

 

[wiskey]

I should use this as one of my chapter titles...

feel free

 

[Yelkcub]

I used their loo... There were no dead bodies in it I can assure you

Portaloo Emptiness

 

[free spirit]

absolutely. But my memory might have mixed it up with another meeting.

I can probably find it but it's on a hard drive not this laptop.

as my memory of it was that I hadn't slept, was on the way down to do a shift change while a bit spangled, and possibly wearing a dress under my stewards vest.

in which case it'd appear that the aura of self confidence and togetherness I was attempting to project worked a treat.... but it's also possible that I've got it mixed up with another time.

I do remember another time the same year walking down the railway track from lost vagueness around 8 in the morning wearing nowt but a miniskirt I'd aquired from somewhere, and kinda realising that the day shift had just come on duty and I was getting some odd looks. No option but to brazen it out with a few well placed 'morning's

 

[wiskey]

as my memory of it was that I hadn't slept, was on the way down to do a shift change while a bit spangled, and possibly wearing a dress under my stewards vest.

I think that's fairly close to 'you had just had breakfast' .... Perhaps without the breakfast.

 

[William of Walworth]

Well 2015 is going to be my 19th, and my memory's pretty resonable -- amazingly enough

So I can't believe I won't have something to contribute here. It'll have to wait until I have time and until I'm in the right mindspace for me to make any kind of reasonable job of it though.

"Moar later"

 

[fractionMan]

Way back in 95 I remember these god awful trustafarian types trying to feed me psychedelics and banging on about spirit journeys. My mate Angel fancied one of them so we stuck around listening to their drivel. I shat myself in their sleeping bag during the night and stole their booze in the morning. All while wearing a Jesus outfit. Good times.

 

[Ruby 1979]

Way back in 95 I remember these god awful trustafarian types trying to feed me psychedelics and banging on about spirit journeys. My mate Angel fancied one of them so we stuck around listening to their drivel. I shat myself in their sleeping bag during the night and stole their booze in the morning. All while wearing a Jesus outfit. Good times.

Hehehe. Glad we got to hear Jesus' scatological side of the story. But what about Angel? This just in from him:

"Yeah, 1995. That was the year I lost a few teeth after my mate Jesus punched me in the face over an argument about the socio-economic status of a girl I fancied. He'd always had a bit of a chip on his shoulder about anyone young and white enjoying themselves. But I was like, 'Who cares mate? She's got amazing tits.' He totally ruined my chances by doing toxic farts all night, and then he shat himself. So I left him there and went back to my truck for a wank instead. Good times."

 

[fractionMan]

I once spent ages trying to find the fence so I could climb over it only to discover I'd could now see the fence from the inside and I'd already sneaked in. Still can't work out how.

 

[marty21]

I only went once in 1986 - even though I was born in Bath which is only about 20 miles away enjoyed 86 though - drove up from Swansea where I was living at the time - 3 tickets - 3 cars (I bought a ticket cost me about 20 English pounds) the 3 drivers let us all out - got in and told us they would come and get us with spare bands - did they fuck - we eventually persuaded someone on the gate that our tickets were inside - he did ask why we didn't stay inside the cars - we didn't have any answer to that - but he let us in to 'find our tickets'

Weather was mostly great - but it did rain when the Cure played - but Goths are supposed to be miserable right? so it seemed appropriate - and anyway I listened to it stoned in a tent with a ladyperson

didn't shit for 5 days as I wanted to avoid the trench - unloaded at a service station on the way back to Wales , having survived on veggie burgers for 5 days

 

[belboid]

Weather was mostly great - but it did rain when the Cure played - but Goths are supposed to be miserable right? so it seemed appropriate - and anyway I listened to it stoned in a tent with a ladyperson

there was a great thunderstorm for The Cure. I recall the lightning as A Forest was playing, spectacular.

I strolled in through the main gate that year too, if someone asked for a ticket, I (and the half dozen people I was with) just put our hands in our pocket as if to pull it out, and then kept on walking. Failed miserably to find the van we'd driven down in, tho, and ended up kipping (a little bit) on a hay bale in the circus tent.

i think that was the year the Mutoid Waste people did carhenge too, wasn't it?

 

[marty21]

there was a great thunderstorm for The Cure. I recall the lightning as A Forest was playing, spectacular.

I strolled in through the main gate that year too, if someone asked for a ticket, I (and the half dozen people I was with) just put our hands in our pocket as if to pull it out, and then kept on walking. Failed miserably to find the van we'd driven down in, tho, and ended up kipping (a little bit) on a hay bale in the circus tent.

i think that was the year the Mutoid Waste people did carhenge too, wasn't it?

can't remember, therefore they did

 

[Ruby 1979]

i think that was the year the Mutoid Waste people did carhenge too, wasn't it?

I think it was 1987.

 

[Ruby 1979]

not entirely sure how you could get that all into a book though without falsely mixing up the different experiences into a single character / group.

Just reading back over the thread and noticed this...I'm afraid that's exactly what I intend to do with the material - i.e. mix it all up. In fact, I'm going to have a go at doing it with the posts from this thread (and whatever my fevered imagination dreams up in response). Might take a while, but when it's done, I'll post it here and you can all tear me apart for tearing your stories apart.

Thanks for your input so far.

 

[wiskey]

Rather than mix up and fictionalise lots of other people's genuine adventures is there not scope for taking the anecdotes and storing them in a book? I mean enough frankly ridiculous stuff happens at Glastonbury without having to change anything, it's not like you need to add drama or suspense etc.

 

[sim667]

The first year I went was 1999, I was sixteen and had just finished my GCSE's, I went with two mates...... Of course I made the rookie error of leaving my fully packed bag in the tent..... went off to look around, came back and everything I had was stolen, I was just left with an empty tent....... On day two I lost my mobile phone, on day 3 we decided to shit in pringle tins. On the way home we could only afford child tickets for the train back from london, the ticket man came, and instead of telling him I was 15, I told him I was 19 (I got the maths way wrong for the year of birth)...... £20 fine. When I got back I had to explain why I'd only returned with a tent, a train fine and a CD of some band I'd acquired (they were call liquid laugh).



Another year I went my main memory is of a scouser who kept turning up at our campsite playing aphex twin on the shittest tiniest stereo imaginable, and all he kept doing was dancing around saying "You're a pussy if you can't dance to the aphex"...... it was amazing.

 

[lizzieloo]

I'm sympathitic to the OP too, seems pretty genuine but my more interesting (for me, at the time) Glastonbury stories are all acid fueled so I'm not sure they'd work in a novel, like when the man with tent poles for hands took my water bottle out of my hands cos he knew that water bottle was my special thing

Or just how funny the ice cream van was for HOURS

It's just not novel friendly

 

[sim667]

I'm sympathitic to the OP too, seems pretty genuine but my more interesting (for me, at the time) Glastonbury stories are all acid fueled so I'm not sure they'd work in a novel, like when the man with tent poles for hands took my water bottle out of my hands cos he knew that water bottle was my special thing

Or just how funny the ice cream van was for HOURS

It's just not novel friendly

Maybe once the OP has finished this novel, they could start work on a crowdsourced novel about your special thing.

 

[Ruby 1979]

Rather than mix up and fictionalise lots of other people's genuine adventures is there not scope for taking the anecdotes and storing them in a book? I mean enough frankly ridiculous stuff happens at Glastonbury without having to change anything, it's not like you need to add drama or suspense etc.

It's kind of already been done:
Glastonbury: An Oral History of the Music, Mud and Magic
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Glastonbury...8&qid=1417553168&sr=8-11&keywords=glastonbury

Except this book focuses much more on the stories of the founders and organisers, and there aren't enough anecdotes from ordinary punters.

I understand your reservations, Wiskey. But I'm coming at this from the perspective of a novelist, rather than a chronicler of Glastonbury history. Fiction and its possibilities are what excites me. It's still a risk though. In the end, it might be shite. Even if it isn't, it certainly won't please everyone, or feel like a faithful representation of every contributor's Glastonbury experience. I've tried to make this really clear on the website, so that people understand the process is pretty experimental, and the end result is likely to be, too.

But that's why I'm thinking it might be good to try out this experimental method using material from this thread. People have given me some great stuff, and I like a challenge. But it's possible that I'll return in a couple of weeks with my tail between my legs and decide to write a YA coming-of-age novel with one main character called Ellie, set at Bestival 2012.

 

[Ruby 1979]

I'm sympathitic to the OP too, seems pretty genuine but my more interesting (for me, at the time) Glastonbury stories are all acid fueled so I'm not sure they'd work in a novel, like when the man with tent poles for hands took my water bottle out of my hands cos he knew that water bottle was my special thing

Or just how funny the ice cream van was for HOURS

It's just not novel friendly

Seriously, I love other people's acid stories. Bring it on! I think trips often have their own kind of internal narrative logic (mine do, anyway) so I wouldn't be so sure acid experiences aren't novel friendly. But the difficulty is in representing that mental state that makes the ice-cream van so damn funny.

 

[Ruby 1979]

Another year I went my main memory is of a scouser who kept turning up at our campsite playing aphex twin on the shittest tiniest stereo imaginable, and all he kept doing was dancing around saying "You're a pussy if you can't dance to the aphex"...... it was amazing.

This is definitely going in.

 

[newbie]

This year was my first and tbh I thought Glastonbury was overrated, I took my canoe but couldn't find anywhere to use it

Anyway, the best was on the way home.

 

[fractionMan]

I had sex behind the film tent one year while wearing wellies. We looked up and saw a massive paper topped turd staring at us from about 10 cm away in the grass. There was drizzle and we could hear Rudy Yurts playing in the background. I'm not sure what the worst part of all that was but it was deeply depressing stuff.

I prefer other festivals.

 

[wiskey]

This year was my first and tbh I thought Glastonbury was overrated, I took my canoe but couldn't find anywhere to use it

Statistically it's can't rain every single year!

 

[story]

The Traveller staggering along the track and then taking off one boot and using it as a pillow when he crashed out on the verge so that no-one would steal both boots while he slept.

My mate waking up outside the perimeter fence of Dragon Field on the Monday, turning left to find the way back in and then walking the entire way round the site to get back in before he realised that he should have turned right to simply walk back in through the gap in the fence that he'd walked out of.

An America friend fainting dead away where she stood during a gig, coming round to find people looking down at her and asking "Are you alright?", to which she replied "Yes, I'm fine, thanks", and then complaining later that no-one helped her and not understanding when I tried to explain that since she said she was fine, no-one had interfered because, well, she'd said she was alright.

The bloke who told me he felt honoured that a man had lain down by his fire to die in the night.

People selling trays of mud pies by the side of the track in 1996 and making loads of cash.

The enormous deep puddle surrounded by people waiting for people to fall into it so that they could laugh at the spectacle.

The Herbalists snorting neat chilli powder off the backs of their hands in the pirate ship.

The half naked hippy woman with the baby on her hip selling acid outside a tipi.

Traveller kids washing in a bucket.

Traveller kids juggling five clubs while their grubby toddler sister went round with the bucket for money.

People gathering around a telly and staring at it like it was a wondrous new type of magic and the woman walking past shouting "Who watches telly at a festival? Sort it out!" and the crowd melting away in shame and laughter.

Being on the guest list for the Smallest Nightclub in the World.

Walking fifteen miles a day and losing 15 lbs over the week.

My brother being too proud to take my advice about who to buy acid from and then being ripped off in every.single.deal he made by himself.

The woman who laughed so hard when she saw her city mate in Festie clobber that she actually fell on her face and mashed her nose bloody.

In the days before mobile phones, having to rely on telepathy and personal radar to find anyone, and managing to do it.

And before mobile phones, the sound of people trying to find each other at the Stone Circle, the chorus of names being called out sounding like a chorus of lost ghosts.

The bloke who had lost his tent, his friends, and his way calling and calling and calling for "Roger! Roger! Rogaaah!" and the whole field in every direction calling back "Over here, mate!"

The strobe lit ostriches dancing all night to old time Rhythm & Blues.

The woman who came screaming out of her tent at dawn having tolerated the sound of the car-crash orchestra for untold hours through the night and the sudden overwhelming silence that followed.

Feeding the two little lost kitten children whose mum was totally lunched out in their tent, cleaning them up and waiting for their mum to wake up.

Children called things like Solomon and Merlin and Arthur.

And so on and so forth.

 

[newbie]

In the days before mobile phones, having to rely on telepathy and personal radar to find anyone, and managing to do it.

a bit of the magic faded when Prince Serendip gave way to King Orange.

for more than one reason, never again will we all arrive at Fayres Fair at the same instant, without a shred of organisation.