My Glastonbury
This was my first one, so I was going with an open mind, a bag of drugs, and a lot of excitement. It was Thursday
Setting off from Paddington was going to be a doddle: train down, coach to site, and let the fun begin. However, the cops had other ideas as they got the drug dog to walk along the line at the train-station. My well packed bag of goodies was wrapped in cling-film, sprayed with fly killer, wrapped again, sprayed with Mr Sheen, and this process was repeated three times – the dog smelled nothing, I was on my way, cops foiled – suckers
I get to the site, it’s big, but I manage to find the Greenpeace camping (how good is Greenpeace camping, bang in the middle, meals, tea and coffee, hot showers if you were so inclined, I wasn’t) – but where’s my mate? Wrecked in the VIP area for the opening party, that’s where! I wait, make new friends, and hear horror stories from the searches on the gate where one lad spent the night in the cells for having ONE GRAMME of mushrooms on him – I was glad I was careful
I finally catch up with my pal, we wander, explore, drink, maybe see East 17, back to the tent at half three and I dose the pissed fucker with K, put him on his arse and go to sleep. Get a text at 4am saying Jacko’s dead. I feel sad as he’s had a shitty old time in his fucked up life and anticipate the bollocks that is to come next
Friday, wake up and I am camped right next to a mate who I hardly see much off, it’s great. He’s sound engineering so is around here and there. Someone who you don’t expect to see to chill with is a bonus, cups of tea all ‘round, followed by some lager
We have to start somewhere so it’s off to see Hot 8 Brass band. Brothers Cider at 7% is also a good way to get going
This day is a bit lost and the next thing I can remember is seeing Q-Tip rock the Jazz World Stage. Lots of old Tribe Called Quest tunes and an aborted attempt at a minutes silence for the kiddy-fiddler –the crowd know that there’s a festival to enjoy, we want no silence, we want I Left My Wallet in El Segundo (he doesn’t play it)
We do a lot of dancing, to what, I have no idea? It’s now night-time, we are around the fire, everyone is talking bollocks
Can’t be arsed with Neil Young
I go to my tent and take fifteen mushrooms at a time, every half hour, until the word melts – the world is a sweet place to be
Saturday
Wake up to the Warsaw Village Band, they are ace, and we then leave the camp for Rolf Harris. We come back after five minutes as it’s VERY packed. Our camp is right opposite the Jazz World Stage and the music is clear as a bell. This is where we stay for most of daylight, listening to the world music. Lonnie Liston Smith is the next highlight. He’s a bit ropey in places but gets his groove on and we love him. I even enjoy Baba Maal!
There’s a lot of wandering later: Tom Middleton’s Old Skool Rave set, Rusko, and then Tayo, I boogie, everyone goes and sits about
This is all a bit out of sequence, I was taking a fair bit of MDMA
Due to excess, my pal goes to bed at one thirty. I go and dance to Appleblim in The Glade Lounge – I love this – out and about – one me tod – making friends and falling over. Over to Trash City, it’s packed and I can’t get into any of the music venues. Who do they let in? I meet hardly anyone who got in to dance all weekend. Back to some other dance thing, dance dance dance and back to my tent, smiling
I can’t be bothered with Bruce
Sunday is great at most festivals, but we start with Status Quo. Fuck me, the main stage is horrible in the day. It’s the first time I have ventured over there and I hate it, it’s like a wasteland, litter and burnt chairs lay all around. The Quo disappoint. We wander and find some reggae. On a Sunday, when you find the reggae, you find your dancing feet again – all the drugs surge and you smile – six of us skanking to a Junior Reid tune. Back for Tony Christie, he takes too long to sing I Did What I Did For Maria (my favourite) – it’s hot, we leave
Abdullah Chhadeh And Syriana are great, (we see them twice) as is Roots Manuva. Fuck knows who rocks the G-Stage later, either High Contrast or Chase and Status – I got me jungle boots on and have a right old frug – I’m dancing, like really dancing! Hahahaha
I am frog-marched to see Blur and last one and a half songs – they are fucking shit, we leave
More dancing, then to the Stone Circle – sniff k, then it rains so we pootle to the Groovy Movie Cinema – out comes the box of wine out comes the k, it gets well strange
Brandy coffee, spliff, weird movies, make friends, fall over (k in a cinema where everyone lays down = mayhem, no-one minds, we are one)
By now I have my Mexican wrestling mask on for most of the night, it’s now light and my mate runs and runs around the labyrinth, causing many others to do the same
We collapse in the tent at feck knows when. I’ve been using k as a sleeping tablet but this time the tent appears to be upside down and I have no ideas, literally no ideas of who what or where – finally sleep
Monday morning – help someone take their tent down and am given a can of cider – excellent
Wait around and then leave, get home to Brixton at five thirty
By five thirty on Tuesday I feel normal again and have come down
Loved it
((boycey's nuts)) 
