Posts from 28th June 2005

Jun 05

Where dfun/dt=0

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Fun minimum
I, like many fools (oh you poor fools), believed in Uncle Richard Angwin when he said serious rain gear would be OTT. In the event my sturdy hiking boots started to let in some water. Magnus had the right idea and got us both to queue up for boots in the light rain not long after 10am. By about 11 we were near the front of the queue (which had doubled in size during that time), ankle deep in water, and growing more and more horrified as the shouts of “no more size 7s” “only 4s 6s and 8s” increased in frequency. Shuffling forward squelch by squelch, the cold, the shivering, the hangover (see later) and the feeling that “this misery will not end, ever” felt much like coming down from unimpressive but expensive drugs. Despite being a size 10, i persisted and we were fortunate to get to the front when a box or two of size 8s was pretty much all they had left. They fitted me perfectly. Thank you to the god of the confusing shoe size scale for making me this way! Though curse you if you were also the god responsible for the rain in the first place you massive arse of a deity you.

Somehow we managed to walk away with three pairs after paying for two. Sorry to the Joe Bananas massive. You can take the difference off the bastard who stole my folding stool last year.

Of course with dry feet, no actual rain any more now, and the freedom to splosh through the rising mud as the rain washed down the slopes, the misery drained away and perspective was regained. Those poor bastards with tents at the foot of the hill! shit.

Fun maximum
Only one trough of fun, but many many little peaks of fun. New Order got my dancing started – though they were a bit meh in all honesty, that’s actually better than average of all the times I have seen em. I had a lot of fun by myself this year for the first time in ages. On a mission to dance all night (post NOrder) I tried the Lock Tavern, but it was miserable – uninspired music, tiny venue. A tiny breast-cancer-charity tent just down the track did a much better job – and amazingly Magnus spotted me in there and we danced til it was time to head off for the traditional sunrise with the hippies.

Other solo feats of fun included the very entertaining Bravery (i like poseur singers and cod rock’n’roll antics once in a while), and 2manydjs (surely cut off short at the end – PJ Harvey not really providing a great end-of-set moment for many DJ acts).

I am reliably informed that i had a great deal of fun on the thursday night, but I do not enjoy or revel in the fact that I can get roaring drunk and forget everything I do as a result. This is the wrong sort of fun. It makes me realise that if I met myself I’d hate me. I behave abominably. Perry is a bad bad drug, kids.

Glastonbury 2005: Moments (Thursday-Friday)

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1. Wandering over to a book stall on Thursday evening and buying Impossible Possibilities, a book on “the miracles of the future” written by two Germans in 1968. Strolled away when the aged proprietor called me back. “Did you hear,” he said, “Of the boy who could turn a tennis ball inside out with his mind?”. “No” I said, truthfully. “They studied him – and then he couldn’t do it any more.“. Ahhh.

2. Crossing the flooded site for the first time on Friday morning to get provisions. Wild-eyed man in front of me in the queue: “ten mars bars” Provisions man: “ten??” Wild-eyed man: “make it fifteen”.

3. Returning with provisions my way is blocked by a bus grinding slowly through the rivers of muddy water. At the front are four baby-faced musician types in notably dry-weather gear: they look apalled and sickened. “It’s the Thrills” cries somebody. Somebody else cries “Fuck off!”

4. The fabulous moment when I realised that my camping chair wouldn’t sink.

5. Reading a text on Friday night saying “Kinga and Orlaith must go” and realising that the weight of water had actually shifted the whole of Glastonbury into some ridiculous counter-earth populated by bad fantasy characters.

I Thought Uncles Were Relatives

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Did you ever have a friend of your parents who was called an Uncle? (Don’t worry, I am not going down that particular paedophile route here.) A mate of your Dad’s who, when you later found out the true definition of Uncle made you feel as though the grown-ups were making this stuff up on the spot.

BBC South West Weather Forecaster Uncle Richard is a bit like that. Richard Angwin is the voice of South West Weather and a much loved old sage to the locals. But then a lot of the locals don’t like the people going to the Glastonbury Festival. You see last week Uncle Richard told us, as late as Wednesday, that we would be over-reacting if we took wellies. Odd the BBC have decided to take this page down to be replaced by the following one as on Friday his tune had changed considerably. Yes, you read that right, on Friday AFTER it had actually rained four inches in three hours.

Weather forecasters are another way of kids realising that not all adults tell the truth or are indeed omnipotent. Weather forecasters possibly need to be avuncular just so we can forgive them when they get it wrong. Well, Richard Angwin, you are no uncle of mine.

My Glastonbury Highlight

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There will be much, much more on this front but from a pure visceral piece of musical fun there was really only one place to be in Glastonbury. That was the Roots stage in the Dance Village which unfortuantely also seemed to only ever have about thirty punters in it. Nae matter. The festival finished with Seeed: and their Glastonbury Dancehall Dancing competition which was tremendous fun (and Seeed’s German dancehall was pretty top too). They also get bonus points for asking “Glastonbury: Are You (Still) Alive!”

However same stage, two nights before, while 808 State were playing their own records at themselves I stumbled across Swami. who used to be DJ Swami but is now a six piece bhangra rock rap act who for sheer energy wiped the floor with anything on the John Peel Stage (and could probably teach the Go! Team a little bit about being a live act). More information on Swami here. Don’t mind the moody photo, they were lovely boys on stage.

paging mr TOM E. for his COLA slash POULTRY pleasure

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coke-butt chicken (courtesy aldo cowpat)


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So we all saw the website on the side of the branded cups, but in our wildest dreams did we think that they would DELIVER PERRY TO YOUR DOOR!!!??


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my friend T – who cooks by wild shamanic inspiration – made a sidedish of popcorn lightly sprinkled w. curry powder and ground cumin


(we actually had it w.steamed salmon, carrots, brocolli and salad but i think it wd go with other ting just as well)