Shops rammed with tie-dye clothes, crystals, singing bowls and CBD oil; the scent of smouldering joss sticks everywhere; bookshelves groaning under the weight of books on Wicca; friendly witches selling potion vials, bird wings and stuffed pine martens. Even the bloke working in Coop was a hippy stoner.
We also walked up Glastonbury Tor in conditions so blustery that my eyelids were flapping, but it was the hill behind our accommodation that offered the best view of the festival site, with the skeleton of the Pyramid Stage sat in the middle. Hard to believe that in three months those fields will be teeming with thousands of people and The Killers, Snow Patrol and George Ezra will be polluting the atmosphere.
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