Logically enough, doing famous English things meant attending the Glastonbury Festival. Glasto is a politically-aware five day musical extravanganza held in late June in Somerset. The Festival has 12 (12!) main stages, and many other smaller performance sites. It combines rock and indie with folk, jazz and poetry all whilst raising awareness about poverty, pollution and climate change.
Controversially, this year's headliner is Jay-Z, a hiphopper. Traditionalists have said there's no place for hiphop at a rock festival, but others have said it could be the beginning of a new era. It may be the naysayers were right, as ticket sales were well down on previous years and many were yet to be sold even the day before. (Normally, they sell out in five hours upon first release.)
But, for either good or bad, we were on our way - and in a wonderful twist, slow ticket sales meant some of my work colleagues and their friends had a chance to get tickets for the first time too and we all decided to camp together.
Because I was still spending time with my parents in London when the Festival began, Lucy went on two days ahead of me. This meant she arrived well before the big crowds, and was able to not only chill out and explore the plentiful variety of the festival at leisure, but we also got a pretty sweet site for our tent, replete with kiwi flag:
So, by the time my eight hour journey with the crowds from Paddington ended on Friday evening, Lucy had already sussed out the best place to eat, shower, chill and soak up the atmosphere.
The Green Fields most clearly show the purpose of the Festival - stalls and services here are all about reducing our environmental impact.
One of my favourite exhibitions was an Eco Pod - living quarters for up to two people that costs only £18,000 to build and uses renewable materials. It was super-tiny inside, but I think would be quite good for a writer's studio in the corner of a farm or similar:
After taking in all the green and hippy type stuff, and full of organic curry, I wandered towards the main stage, where we were to meet up with everyone else. Naturally, the crowd was building, and Lucy couldn't quite believe the change from an empty field to concert venue for 180,000. The farm was filling up:
We arrived at the stage just before thegossip began, and in time to meet up with everyone else for a head-banging, punk-filled boogie.
I have been wanting to see this 3-piece live for about 8 months, so it was an excellent way to start my first Festival. I don't think there is anyone quite as exhillirating to watch as Beth Ditto. Even though we were rather far away, her energy washed over the whole place. She made a massive stage feel like a tiny club in New York. Luckily for me, the BBC has better pictures than I might offer:
Beth really took to the Fesitval vibe, and jumped off the stage to get closer to the buzzing crowd. She marched up in down in front, stealing hats and sunglasses, swilling their beers and giving lots of sloppy kisses. I think she was as sad as we were when time was up...
The next few bands didn't interest me too much, so Lucy and I took the chance to buy beer (£4 a pint!) and get some yummy food back in the organic area. There were sooo many people around, it was phenomenal. And not one of them pushed or yelled or got into fights.
Soon time came for the next treat - Sinead O'Conner in the hot and heavy (and standing room only) Jazz Tent:
One of my great joys about Glasto was the pull of slightly retro or nostalgic acts alongside new grooves. I think other people feel the same way, and I wonder if they were as disappointed as I was by Sinead's dismal set.
We spent the first half listening to a track-by-track recreation of her new album - full of theological poems riffing on dull Catholic themes of guilt and quasi-redemption. The second half got better as she played her older stuff well and the crowd sang along.
But, her finale was always going to be 'Nothing compares to you' - and it needed to be good to make up for the rest of it. Sadly, she played it with shoulders slumped as if to say 'I-am-so-over-this-song-I-don't-care-how-much-you-appalud'. Worst of all, she ended the climax prematurely in the middle of the final bar, took her guitar off immediately and walked off stage. Not cool.
After that disappointment, I wandered back into the festival air ready for some sleep. It being just about midnight, the bands on the main and pyramid stages were rocking the farm, and it was fun to have them as soundtrack as Lucy and I walked the forty minutes to the other side of the fields to our tent. By the time we reached the 'suburbs', the main acts had all finished, and we had the soothing thumping of the drum and bass fields to serenade us to sleep.
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