Glastonbury - Day One
17/07/09 12:53
Well, I think just enough time has passed for this
blog post to be something less than relevant, but,
though it may have escaped your notice, Daddy Ho!
made a quiet, though indisputably glorious, return to
the festival circuit with an early evening gig
amongst our friends at the Bimble Inn. Please enjoy
the following patchy narrative account of Daddy
Ho!’s weekend in the sun.
Friday 26th - 8.30am
I force myself out of bed having foolishly booked a Doctor’s appointment for 9 o’clock. This is the morning after Michael Jackson’s death, an event we commemorated by watching about thirty seconds of the coverage, getting bored and carrying on with our last minute rehearsal. Nathan is still asleep downstairs, a state of affairs that won’t continue for long. I shower, dress, breakfast and head out the door. We are to reconvene chez Chatwin at 10ish for final preparations.
10:30am
By some miracle, we’re ready to go. Nick, who is accompanying us for the early part of the voyage, arrives, makes a cup of coffee, is asked to wash up and promptly breaks a glass. He is loudly reprimanded for this. I prey I haven’t forgotten anything and shut the front door.
12:00pm
We are just leaving Nathe’s parents’ place having made a quick pit stop for strawberrys, tea and a Land Rover. As we leave, I put on that Solomon Burke record that everyone owns. This doesn’t make a lot of sense, as Solomon Burke played last year.
12:15pm
Tesco at Honiton. Sandwiches, fuel and 3 crates of european lager.
12:30pm
The open road! Our plan is to make it in, get the tents up and head off to the main stage for Fleet Foxes. At this stage it is still raining. I start fiddling with the EQ on the Land Rover to get optimum sound for our journey. I eat my beef and horseradish sandwich and try to read Nathe’s map, which appears to date from a period before the invention of the dual carriageway.
1:00pm
We make exactly the same mistake I always make trying to get to Glastonbury. Memories of nearly dying in Tom Allen’s car return briefly as we just make the A37 turning.
1:45
Arrival. We have a car pass to get onto site and instructions that we can only access the festival through the Red Gate. We go to the Red Gate. An officious little man tells us that we don’t have the appropriate sticker, and that we need to go to the Yellow Gate. I am deeply suspicious of this. Yellow Gate won’t let us in either. We progress to the Pink Gate, which lets us in but leads to a car park literally miles from where we need to be. We decide to try again at the Red Gate. This time I get out of the car and speak to a supervisor who immediately understands that we are indeed allowed access and waves us in. We then join this queue.
2:00pm
We meet a man who seems to know us and offer him a lift. Neither of us know his name. We finally arrive at the Park Stage, dump the car and pick a camping spot.
Nathe has brought a tent which used to belong to a homeless person. It smells of sick and appears to have three poles of differing lengths. I open a cider and loudly mock Nathe’s rubbish tent, well remembering my own experience of Glastonbury 07 in The Worst Tent of All Time.
Finally organised, we park the car and make our way to the Main Stage. Our artist wrist bands seem to make the girls on the gate believe that Nathe and I are both superstar DJs. I comment that Glastonbury is essentially just a jollier version of the holocaust.
4:40pm
Fleet Foxes. We both realise that they have a lot of mediocre songs. But, we’re here, the sun is shining and we have a warm can of Becks to keep us company.
6:00pm
Fleet Foxes over, we head back to the tent to prepare for our gig. Our warm up act is a Didge player who plays along to psychedelic backing music. He has literally cleared the tent. All of our friends are watching Lamb. We begin to understand that this isn’t to be a classic. I’ve forgotten my capo and harmonica, too.
7:00pm
We hit the stage. There are literally 15 people in the tent. It does gradually fill up, however, and I have a good time. I grumpily refuse to have anything to do with the Michael Jackson hysteria. We do our thing, and then head for a falafel.
9:00pm
We’ve eaten, had another few beers and a little nap, and are now ready for Mr Young. We wait with assorted friends and hangers on for a man who apparently is having an acid-fuelled festival toilet experience. I speak to a drunk Guy Garvey and we head for Neil.
10:00pm
Neil is what you expect. The man can play the guitar, I’ll give you that. Down By The River is great and very long. We leave when he starts Rockin’ in the Free World.
12:00pm
Artists’ Bar, The Park.
A nice pint of Guiness and a little sit on some comfy chairs. Thus ended Day One.
Friday 26th - 8.30am
I force myself out of bed having foolishly booked a Doctor’s appointment for 9 o’clock. This is the morning after Michael Jackson’s death, an event we commemorated by watching about thirty seconds of the coverage, getting bored and carrying on with our last minute rehearsal. Nathan is still asleep downstairs, a state of affairs that won’t continue for long. I shower, dress, breakfast and head out the door. We are to reconvene chez Chatwin at 10ish for final preparations.
10:30am
By some miracle, we’re ready to go. Nick, who is accompanying us for the early part of the voyage, arrives, makes a cup of coffee, is asked to wash up and promptly breaks a glass. He is loudly reprimanded for this. I prey I haven’t forgotten anything and shut the front door.
12:00pm
We are just leaving Nathe’s parents’ place having made a quick pit stop for strawberrys, tea and a Land Rover. As we leave, I put on that Solomon Burke record that everyone owns. This doesn’t make a lot of sense, as Solomon Burke played last year.
12:15pm
Tesco at Honiton. Sandwiches, fuel and 3 crates of european lager.
12:30pm
The open road! Our plan is to make it in, get the tents up and head off to the main stage for Fleet Foxes. At this stage it is still raining. I start fiddling with the EQ on the Land Rover to get optimum sound for our journey. I eat my beef and horseradish sandwich and try to read Nathe’s map, which appears to date from a period before the invention of the dual carriageway.
1:00pm
We make exactly the same mistake I always make trying to get to Glastonbury. Memories of nearly dying in Tom Allen’s car return briefly as we just make the A37 turning.
1:45
Arrival. We have a car pass to get onto site and instructions that we can only access the festival through the Red Gate. We go to the Red Gate. An officious little man tells us that we don’t have the appropriate sticker, and that we need to go to the Yellow Gate. I am deeply suspicious of this. Yellow Gate won’t let us in either. We progress to the Pink Gate, which lets us in but leads to a car park literally miles from where we need to be. We decide to try again at the Red Gate. This time I get out of the car and speak to a supervisor who immediately understands that we are indeed allowed access and waves us in. We then join this queue.
2:00pm
We meet a man who seems to know us and offer him a lift. Neither of us know his name. We finally arrive at the Park Stage, dump the car and pick a camping spot.
Nathe has brought a tent which used to belong to a homeless person. It smells of sick and appears to have three poles of differing lengths. I open a cider and loudly mock Nathe’s rubbish tent, well remembering my own experience of Glastonbury 07 in The Worst Tent of All Time.
Finally organised, we park the car and make our way to the Main Stage. Our artist wrist bands seem to make the girls on the gate believe that Nathe and I are both superstar DJs. I comment that Glastonbury is essentially just a jollier version of the holocaust.
4:40pm
Fleet Foxes. We both realise that they have a lot of mediocre songs. But, we’re here, the sun is shining and we have a warm can of Becks to keep us company.
6:00pm
Fleet Foxes over, we head back to the tent to prepare for our gig. Our warm up act is a Didge player who plays along to psychedelic backing music. He has literally cleared the tent. All of our friends are watching Lamb. We begin to understand that this isn’t to be a classic. I’ve forgotten my capo and harmonica, too.
7:00pm
We hit the stage. There are literally 15 people in the tent. It does gradually fill up, however, and I have a good time. I grumpily refuse to have anything to do with the Michael Jackson hysteria. We do our thing, and then head for a falafel.
9:00pm
We’ve eaten, had another few beers and a little nap, and are now ready for Mr Young. We wait with assorted friends and hangers on for a man who apparently is having an acid-fuelled festival toilet experience. I speak to a drunk Guy Garvey and we head for Neil.
10:00pm
Neil is what you expect. The man can play the guitar, I’ll give you that. Down By The River is great and very long. We leave when he starts Rockin’ in the Free World.
12:00pm
Artists’ Bar, The Park.
A nice pint of Guiness and a little sit on some comfy chairs. Thus ended Day One.
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