Is there life after Glastonbury?

In the last week, after going to my first ever Glastonbury festival, I have found myself questioning if I will enjoy Reading Festival in August, or any other festival in the future come to that.

Having been to festivals for the last seven years I thought I had seen it all, heard it all, done it all, but maybe more importantly knew exactly what to expect, but no festival experience could prepare me for the five nights spent in a field in a farm in Pilton. Now that I have sampled a five-star festival I am not sure that any other festival can compare.

Before Glastonbury my favourite festival had always been Reading, for a few reasons this has always been great, but for quite a few more reasons it has had its draw backs.

Let’s concentrate for the purposes of this article on the awesomeness that is Glastonbury Festival.

Firstly, has to be the line-up, it’s a festival that every artist has heard of, a friend of mine who is in a band said to me “I will know I have made it, when I get to headline the Pyramid stage”. For the 40th anniversary we were all promised a killer line-up, and Gorillaz replacing U2 was met with very mixed opinions. I was on the fence on that one, and went to see the Gorillaz on the pretence that they had planned something extra special. In my opinion, it wasn’t all that. The rest, though, was epic.

The festival kicked off with Rolf Harris, a legend. Whether, like me, you know him from childhood as the guy that taught you to draw cartoon versions of himself on the body of a kangaroo during Cartoon Club, or because your grandparents played his vinyl’s on their ancient record players, or because you are of a younger generation and know him from his Jekyll and Hyde performances on Animal Hospital. Either way, it was a great start to a festival, and in his words: “a highlight of my entertaining career”

Then you had performances from Snoop Dog at his very first Glastonbury. Making the crowd “jump around” in 30c heat is no mean feat. Secret performances from Radiohead, the regular festival circuit band Vampire Weekend, and Julian Casablancas performing Strokes material without the rest of the Strokes.

Mumford & Sons and Bombay Bicycle Club, who between them seemed to pull in the biggest John Peel tent audiences of the weekend.

Then Stevie Wonder, singing Happy Birthday with Michael Eavis on stage, to bring it all to an end. Love it or loathe it, it was a fitting and emotional end to a festival. Even if it did look like embarrassing car crash TV when I watched it back last night, you will have to take my word that it was probably a ‘had to be there’ kind of moment.

There were literally hundreds of acts across well over 40 stages. It would be natural to think Glastonbury and music go hand in hand, and stop there, however Glasto is so much more than music.

It is huge, at least ten times bigger than any other festival I have ever been to. And you could be forgiven to thinking that due to its size that it is just field after field divided by hedges and farm gates, but it isn’t. There is something to do, see or hear in almost every square inch of the vast place. Besides the stages and hundreds of food and clothes vendors, you have purpose-built nightclubs made of actual bricks and mortar with NY taxis and underground train carriages sticking out. Quiet places to think and reflect on the days events, hidden relaxation havens, and if you’re into communication during the festival even somewhere to hide from the sun and charge your phone.

There are the craft fields where you can be taught to glaze pots, make plates and spoons or carve from stone, with each themed area transporting you to what could be described as alternate universes decorated with movie set precision. Some of these places are better ventured after dark where a whole different Glastonbury comes to life.

The festival commonly resembles a Turkish mud bath, not this year though. Over the course of the weekend, Glastonbury experienced some of the highest temperatures it has ever had and without a cloud in the sky, the heat and sun were sometimes relentless. Maybe this is a sign of global warming, frankly, I don’t give a shit as I got to leave my wellies in the car, rather than carry them along with all my other crap on what seemed like a two-mile hike from the car park.

The community aspect is something completely different too, everyone is friendly, willing to help, and doesn’t care about another person’s opinion. One such environment was the Twisto group on twitter. I started following these people about two months prior to Glastonbury. Everyone has the same goals, to go and enjoy Glasto, regardless of which acts you plan to see. The buzz of excitement coming off these people leading up to the last few days before glasto was contagious.

Then there’s the camping environment. I think a festival is a lot about the people you go with, and I went with a great bunch of people, naturally friends bring friends whom you don’t know, and in turn, they become your friends. I honestly believe that 50% of my current social circle were originally friends of friends at festivals over the years.

I guess your Glasto camping experience is all down to where you decide to camp. We were in one of the new un-named fields. We arrived and unpacked the car at the hottest point of the day, so almost immediately after wristband exchange, Jms, (our “group co-ordinator)” dropped his bags, and said, “Fuck it, this will do.” Camp Fuck It was born. I must write to Emily Eavis and enquire whether this would be a field name they could pursue in future years…

Owing to one of our people, Kate, being pregnant, it was pre-decided that we would camp somewhere peaceful-ish, within easy access to toilets and medical facilities. The camp we chose fitted the bill perfectly.

At other festivals you see people frequently jumping the fence without having paid for a ticket. At modern Glasto, not one!

At other festivals you see drunk/drugged people kicking off, and frequently see the tell tale signs of someone being evicted due to their behaviour (the swarm of security guards, the revellers bundled into the back of land rovers). At Glasto, just one! And it was a relatively harmless argument to start off with, it was 9am, and he disliked another fella for stealing the numbers to his girlfriend’s postcode. Strange reason to lose your £185 ticket.

My final point about Glastonbury is the traffic to get onto site, and I think it’s my only real negative on the whole glasto experience. How can a festival that has been running for 40 years still suffer traffic chaos? 7am ‘til 2pm to travel the 20-odd miles from the M5 to the site.

Living in close proximity to Silverstone, I am aware of the changes forced upon traffic systems by huge volumes of people for one weekend per calendar year. I am incredibly surprised that more hasn’t been done about it.

Will I do Glasto again? Without a shadow of doubt!

The question at the beginning of this article was, is there life after Glasto?

The answer is still to be determined, but I go back to Reading with incredibly high expectations, knowing full well that, sadly, it probably won’t match up.

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