The rain is pelting down assisted by its friend the wind directly into our faces, this adds an extra edge to our seeking out Jazz World whilst wading through though mud that I have never seen the like of before, again referring back to my favorite childhood book - we have become like Omper Loompers wading through Wonkas sea of chocolate. Panic begins to sets in that I may loose the teenagers who are stomping on ahead desperate to get to the Brothers Cider Bar in the hope that they may be able to sample the wares, Strawberry or Toffee-apple Cider..My progress may be somewhat thwarted by my festival wellingtons, purchased by chance a few weeks before, in a "you never know when you might need a pair of wedged healed, calf length black wellingtons adorned with silver stars and finished off with a pink ribbon round the top I better buy them now" moment.
Keeping my eyes trained on the boys focusing on the sidekicks bright yellow jacket I trudge on, finally we reach the deserted railway line having past large circus like tents thumping out dance or is it trance beats, an endless streams of people moving purposefully in ever direction, they are dampened in every way but in spirit, it has been visual overload thus far.
So now where? we have only stopped for what seemed like less than a nano second with that question poised on our lips and as if by magic another high viz friendly faced helper appears, "do you know where you are going? can I help". I am a little thrown but very grateful for this unexpected help,"Oh Yes thank you, umm we are trying to find Jazz World" we are efficiently directed on to what thankfully turns out to be a relatively short distance and arrive at JW.
No sooner do we reach our destination than the boys hone in on the Brothers Blue and Yellow banner and I begin to feel a sense of relief at the possibility of a friendly face. My friends husband, one of the Brothers who developed the nectar sought out by not only by the boys but many festival goers, who had, it is later revealed, through their patronage, put the pear based cider on the map, greeted us and gave us a mini tour of the behind bar area including their Winnebago, an oasis in this desert of mud, rain and people.
This Winnebago will prove to be a much sought after refuge in the next couple of days not least for the luxury of a proper flushing loo. We are showed the huge tanker that is replaced daily that quenches the never ending thirst of the festival goers and the boys are allowed to sample just a small amount of the strawberry flavoured perry based drink. Now happy with both the taster and their glasto wrist bands they are desperate to dump me and get off into the throng to go and see the wonders of this extraordinary makeshift town that will in a few days once more be grazing land for dairy cows..
I feel extremely anxious at the thought of my precious boy going off unsupervised by my street wise eye, I had given instructions for all valuable except a little money and a mobile phone to be left at B&B base camp. After arranging a rendezvous later that afternoon and insisting that the phones are of no use if not switched on they head off, within 30 seconds they have vanished in the mass of mud and people, my friends husband has returned to the bar and I find myself alone, hungry and still wondering what on earth I was doing here, my friend is not due to arrive till tomorrow and at this point I just want to go to my warm home but as this is not an option I head for some Caribbean food being cooked in a makeshift kitchen in front of me.
I buy some rice and peas, veg curry and platen served on a paper plate with a wooden folk. My legs are now aching and I look round to find somewhere to sit, well with the mud river flowing over what was once grass, ground sitting is not an option and with a bottle of diet coke in one hand and the floppy paper plate in the other eating standing is not really an option either. I spot a white plastic table and four chairs and as I hover hopefully one of the chairs is vacated. As I sit I join in the "is this your first time at Glasto" conversation, turns out I am the only Glastonbury Virgin. I listen in disbelief as my fellow table dwellers tell with glee of their stay so far at this years event, camping no less.... I confess this is my idea of hell so far but they don't seem to understand why I would feel this way and look on at this stranger in their midst with a mixture of confusion and some pity that she obviously doesn't "Get It"..
A little disappointed that I have not bonded with these people who in normal circumstances I would have thought were of sound mind I decided to eat up and head off in search of the acoustic stage.... having looked through my programme I had spotted that Huge Cornwall was about to appear there.. I had not seen Hugh since the Stranglers days when I had seen him and the band play the pub circuit in London at the famous Hope and Anchor Islington in the late 70's. Off I trudge head bowed to the wind and rain, feeling like a figure in a Lowry paining.
End of Part 3
More please Climie Somers ! x
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