SWSL Glastonbury 2004 Diary
The sights, the sounds, the smells…
Wednesday 23rd June
We set off from Birmingham. Torrential downpours of alarming regularity foster a sense of impending doom. 1998 And All That – been there, got the irreparably soiled T-shirt.
Arrive onsite after a bit of queuing. The dark clouds overhead look ominous, the wind is vigorous and the ground soft, but it’s not raining – yet. Collared by one of the packs of Hare Krishnas roaming the car-park, I donate some money, well aware that, as has been the case in previous years, I might end up relying on them for sustenance if I run out of money.
Trying desperately to save space for eight tents when you only have one tent, two people and no cordoning rope or tape is quite a challenge. We spread our bags around and contemplate lying like starfish on the grass. The stiff breeze has a bit of a chill, but absinthe and wine provide warmth and some solace.
First group of friends arrive, having set off from Birmingham at 10.30am. They’ve had an unscheduled four hour wait at services near Bristol thanks to a faulty ignition coil and then been pulled over by the police who suspected the car was unregistered, a suspicion which was unfounded. Our journey was a picnic in comparison.
The rest of our party arrives. We’ve been onsite for barely six hours and already we’re heartily sick of people singing that 5-6-7-8’s song from the Carling ad which seems to be competing for the title of Campsite Chant Du Jour, along with “Rooney!”
Our explorations lead us to the Jazz Lounge, where an old man is enthusiastically spinning reggae classics to a monged crowd. Barely capable of standing let alone dancing, we sway along with the rest before lurching back tentwards.