This time next week I’ll be exploring the principal stop along the Trail of Ants, no doubt shaking from a combination of excess alcohol and dearth of nutrition. Moscow, here I come. My backpack will be bulging with useless items that I will of convinced myself I’ll need and I’ll of fallen hopelessly in love with far too many of those women things. So as I’m embarking on the journey next Saturday, it meant the weekend that preceded this post was my fond farewell to England, the country I love and loathe… and what a weekend it was.
This particular weekend had 5 days, 177,500 people, 100’s of bands, 1000 acres of mud, 3 crates of lager, 3 boxes of wine and lashings more statistic-inducing extravagance. If you haven’t guessed, this could only be one place, the world famous Glastonbury Festival in Somerset.
As farewell parties go, having the Arctic Monkeys, Kaiser Chiefs, The Who and Shirley Bassey playing mind-blowing sets was pretty majestic.
We squeezed in over 30 bands’ sets, cheered with The Blues Brothers on the big screen, partied till 5am in the Silent Disco, lost my mind in Lost Vagueness, ate junk till I felt queezy and found mud in places it just shouldn’t appear. All this, in the company of some of the coolest people on the planet today, you know who you are (Jeff, you’re not one!). Continue reading ‘The farewell party, of all farewell parties!’
