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Why I Don't Want To Go To Glastonbury
Jun. 25th, 2007 12:38 pm.. courtesy of the ever wonderful Charlie Brooker
"Once you're in, the sheer scale of it is initially overwhelming. Imagine forcing the cast of Emmerdale to hurriedly construct Las Vegas at gunpoint in the rain. Then do it again. And once more for luck. That's Glastonbury: a cross between a medieval refugee camp and a recently detonated circus."
Still after 2 bottles of wine, a roast chicken with a lemon up its bum, chocolate Gu and a persuasive![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
catabolism, it didn't seem THAT bad an idea last night, as we watched Glastonbury on seemingly endless loop via BBC2, BBC3 and mysterious extra channels accessed only via red blob.
Glastonbury seems endlessly far away when you're living in Edinburgh, as`mythical as Atlantis. In Southampton, where actual people I actually know actually go, it begins to seem vaguely plausible. After an episode of Dr Who , Glastonbury naturally forms part of the same ambience - you can easily imagine a Dalek-Cybermen showdown happening on its bucolic fields. Maybe Paul Weller is secretly the Master from 1973.
"Why can't I take an RV, like people have in the USA?" I said. "You know - a big van you can sleep in. No mud. No sleeping on the ground. And my own toilet."
"That's a camper van," quoth Christina. "That's not RIGHT. They're not allowed. They take up too much room. And you're missing out on all the fun. No one I know would DREAM of being seen going to a festival in a camper van."
But then lo by the miracle of Google we discover that Glastonbury DOES have parking for camper vans. And even caravans.
"It'll be miles away" says Christina doomily.
"Oh come on ," I say, "at festivals everything's miles away anyway." Even I , who have only been to T in the Park, once (and that when it was practically next tosnotnose's back garden) know this much.
"You won't want to walk back to your camper van whenever you need the loo, " persists Christina, "it'll be miles from the bands."
"Hah!" I retort. "a, I'm very continent. b, I don't drink beer. c You'll all be BEGGING to use my toilet when the rain and mud starts!! I'll sell tickets!"
Christina acknowledges the possibility. But the social faux pas of being seen in a camper van is clearly worrying her.
"In Cornwall everyone has camper vans. But you can't take them to FESTIVALS. That's why we all have tents!!"
So come on oh hippy geeky pagan polyamorous FL. Would you be seen dead in a camper van at Glatonbury? If not why not? And why don't we have RVs? I'm fascinated now...
"Once you're in, the sheer scale of it is initially overwhelming. Imagine forcing the cast of Emmerdale to hurriedly construct Las Vegas at gunpoint in the rain. Then do it again. And once more for luck. That's Glastonbury: a cross between a medieval refugee camp and a recently detonated circus."
Still after 2 bottles of wine, a roast chicken with a lemon up its bum, chocolate Gu and a persuasive
catabolism, it didn't seem THAT bad an idea last night, as we watched Glastonbury on seemingly endless loop via BBC2, BBC3 and mysterious extra channels accessed only via red blob. Glastonbury seems endlessly far away when you're living in Edinburgh, as`mythical as Atlantis. In Southampton, where actual people I actually know actually go, it begins to seem vaguely plausible. After an episode of Dr Who , Glastonbury naturally forms part of the same ambience - you can easily imagine a Dalek-Cybermen showdown happening on its bucolic fields. Maybe Paul Weller is secretly the Master from 1973.
"Why can't I take an RV, like people have in the USA?" I said. "You know - a big van you can sleep in. No mud. No sleeping on the ground. And my own toilet."
"That's a camper van," quoth Christina. "That's not RIGHT. They're not allowed. They take up too much room. And you're missing out on all the fun. No one I know would DREAM of being seen going to a festival in a camper van."
But then lo by the miracle of Google we discover that Glastonbury DOES have parking for camper vans. And even caravans.
"It'll be miles away" says Christina doomily.
"Oh come on ," I say, "at festivals everything's miles away anyway." Even I , who have only been to T in the Park, once (and that when it was practically next to
snotnose's back garden) know this much."You won't want to walk back to your camper van whenever you need the loo, " persists Christina, "it'll be miles from the bands."
"Hah!" I retort. "a, I'm very continent. b, I don't drink beer. c You'll all be BEGGING to use my toilet when the rain and mud starts!! I'll sell tickets!"
Christina acknowledges the possibility. But the social faux pas of being seen in a camper van is clearly worrying her.
"In Cornwall everyone has camper vans. But you can't take them to FESTIVALS. That's why we all have tents!!"
So come on oh hippy geeky pagan polyamorous FL. Would you be seen dead in a camper van at Glatonbury? If not why not? And why don't we have RVs? I'm fascinated now...
