On our return from a well earned Siesta having managed to get loss yet again between Wells and Pilton, more dopey navigating from the bright young things..lots of moaning from my offspring in the back seat (the friend now travels in the front to avoid a repeat of the throwing up incident) that because we got lost, which of course was deemed my fault as the only one in the car old enough to drive, that they were not going to get back in time for GaGa, "just as well there are several hundred other acts to see then"I retorted, which fell on unimpressed ears.. truth is I was a little disappointed to have missed the Specials too.. but without the much needed lie down I would have been probably unable to walk at all by now.
On our return to our designated car park, I have to add an aside here, top tip - arriving on Friday and coming and going from the festival over the next couple of days we experienced none of the nightmarish traffic jams that you so often hear of as most people arrive at the latest on Thursday and stay till Monday, anyway back to Friday evening and our eventual return to the yellow car park, of course its not actually yellow that is just part of the Glasto organisations strategic plan not to have everyone trying to enter the festival through one entrance, there are several different color coded entrances and car parks.
Although no longer badly affected by my previously troublesome back I still from time to time do feel pain in my legs to vary degrees if I drive or walk for too long, having done both to excess in the last 15 hours I had already experienced quite severe pain earlier in the day, despite my little break in the afternoon I was still a bit achy and as such I made the executive decision not to don the high wedged healed festival wellies again, instead I was going to go for the calf length, light blue sailing wellies purchased last year from Noa Noa, still not stand bog standard black (one has to keep up standards even in the mud girls) but they were flat. In addition, even though not that good for the ego, I decided it would be a good idea to take with me the walking stick that was still in the boot of the car from the limpy days of 2 years ago, the boot not often getting a clear out can have benefits.
So off we go again, we had only got a few yards when one of the High Viz champs asked if we would like a lift in the mini bus, "the mini bus, what mini bus?" had we missed a chance to be delivered to Jazz World earlier by bus? The mini bus we were being offered was for less able people and was run by Bristol Dial a Ride. The limp and the stick had identified me as a customer and I wasn't about to argue with that, the pride had already been battered by the need for the stick.. The boys were very happy to accompany me, we were not delivered to the heart of the festival but were taken to the disabled camp site from where it was not so far to walk into where the action was taking place.
This had been another example of the amazing organisation I began to realise went into the preparation of this extraordinary event. The D.a.R crew could not have been nicer and more helpful if they had given us each a piggy back. They were volunteers, we also heard tales on the bus from a wheel chaired passenger of the amazing camping field were disabled people with any number of different conditions camped not only comfortably but with a great sense of community and a little unlike some of the other camp sites a degree of space.
My admiration for every aspect of Glastonbury, its organisers and hosts, its volunteers, its facilities which included a medical centre as well as all the special facilities for the disabled, its performers and all those that had turned up in their thousands was growing by the minute, it wasn't be long before I was thinking that Gordon Brown and all the opposition parties could learn a thing or to from these people about true democracy and community.
With a growing warm glow and sense of belonging I glooped my way with the assistance of my trusty stick, which from time to time got stuck momentarily in the mud, towards the pyramid stage to await with my new found compatriots the much hyped Neil Young. The boys had headed off to catch any remaining GaGa and block party I think. We had arranged a rendezvous back at Brothers Bar at 1 am. This time I felt a lot more confident that the lads were safe wondering around this new town of Glasto.
End of part 5
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