Adventures of a Girl

You come to Glasto not only for the amazing bands you wouldn’t otherwise see, but also for the people, the mud and the experience. Glasto certainly delivered one hell of an experience to me. First day was a nightmare. Now it’s not that I’m soft, but surely you’d agree that a haze of traffic jams, heavy rain, arriving in the early hours, pitching tents in the dark, forgetting pillows and being surrounded by youngsters experiencing Glasto for the first time and don’t want to sleep, is trying for anyone.

So next morning, I gave myself a talking to – something along the lines of ‘it’s to be expected and you’re made of stronger stuff’. Powerful indeed, and second day was a turnaround. I worked my first shift at a bar by the Pyramid Stage – exhausting but fun - and tried very hard to stay awake and watch Kings of Leon. I met some great people, ate some interesting food, drank hot-spiced cider (yum), bought some new gumboots, traipsed about in the mud, and got wet from the rain. A great day!

Saturday started with an early shift at the bar. You’d think that people wouldn’t be too interested in beer at 11 in the morning (when Shakin’ Stevens is playing the main stage), but turns out at Glasto there are no rules. So after another exhausting shift, we finally got to enjoy the sunshine, and kick off our boots on the hills above the main stage and (most unfortunately) hear James Blunt. Then it was back to the workers village for lamb shanks and a shower before venturing out to Glasto-by-night, the dance tents, the Pussy Parlur, Amy (aka Smackhead) Winehouse, and headliner Jay-Z.

Sunday brought more sunshine and our last shift at the bar. By now I’m a bit broken and spend the morning face down in my tent feeling a bit sorry for myself. But, no whinging from me – I’m made of stronger stuff remember? So I’m up in time for work, and count down the five hour shift with a permanent smile plastered to my face and the same jokes for each punter (well, they don’t’ know). Then we head to the other stage for a bit of Groove Armada, then to the Glade to find ourselves. Not much chance of that seeing as everyone else has the same idea. By now it’s late and I go for a last wander round the site, then head back to the workers village for a final sleeping bagged snooze.

Glasto is not for the faint hearted. Unless, of course, you are rich and can afford a winnebago with all the comforts of home. But for the average joe, the Glasto experience involves broken sleep, queuing for port-a-loos, eating on the go, sore bones, and mud, mud, mud. But it also delivers a feeling I can’t quite describe, and an experience I wouldn’t have wanted to miss.