A GLASTONBURY TALE (55)

In The Sun

A well earned rest

After a short drive but long trek with tent, sleeping bags, camping stove, food, clothes, rucksack and wheelbarrow through fields, winding pathways and uneven footing that would have tested the suspension of a 4x4 (the wheelbarrow, which it has to be admitted was probably designed for ferrying leaves from one part of the garden to another, performed admirably, it nearly broke my wrists but performed admirably), we finally reached the entrance.

We were tagged, but not in an ASBO type of way, they were so colourful (see above) and this was the beginning of a feeling of belonging. After a hiccough with getting through the gate with 'oversized' luggage we were in!

It was hot, and dusty and we had to walk around, past the gate to Worthy farm, before reaching the top of the hill, by the Worthy FM tent and the big, white spiritual tent to look down toward the Pyramid Stage past hundreds of pitched tents. This was Wednesday, about 15:30 and it was full! I expected myself and a handful of other people not hundreds of tents.

We walked down the hill, past tents on either side, past a large mountain of campfire wood with people foraging, gathering, wrestling it and down, on to the Pyramid Stage field which was vast. Seeing it in the flesh for the first time is a brilliant experience but it was capped by the need for a campsite. Halfway down the path past the Pyramid Stage field some grass presented itself on the left. 'Let's camp there' cried Mu, desperate offload the too much stuff we'd brought. I had to point out it was next to the men's urinals and although little used at present and with an excellent view of the Pyramid Stage, it would loose its appeal quite quickly. We treked on.

We had to pass through the village which again was packed with people ('I thought we'd got here early', 'we should have set off earlier', 'I told you we should have set off early') and it was getting stressful. By the time we had got to the bridge into what was the Jazz World stage field (we didn't know and didn't care by then) we were willing to camp actually 'in' the mens urinals. However, we pushed on a little further and turned right into a field that was full of tents but had some space at the periphery and it was a near periphery, a periphery that didn't require any more walking, it was a nice periphery.

It was the perfect site; near a pathway that led to a crossroad, even nearer the toilets and directly in front of 'The Diner' (more of that later) that was pumping out music louder than anything else nearby - what could be better?

I went on a little further up the field having dropped all out stuff and left it with Mu. I got through the field of tents, to The Glade and on to the field below The Park which again seemed full but full is a subjective word. With hindsight, I now know there were acres of space between the tents and we could have pitched in any of these but at the time I was looking for something that resembled 'Camping' magazine's ideal spot.

I made my way back to Mu with the news that there was more space, more fields but I was too late. She had started to pitch at our 'ideal site' and wasn't moving an inch further. I was glad I suppose (I was knackered) but I had a niggling suspicion about 'The Diner'.

Well, the tent was erected (steady) an the big pole was up (Ooh, err, missus) and we'd earned our rest in the sun. Yes, the sun!

Blue Fish

RP


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