Well Glastonbury has ruined everything. My body, my brand new tent, my sunglasses…

Oh, and everything I thought I knew about festivals.

This was my first year at the prestigious event and I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. I had been to several festivals before, spending many of my teenage years at Reading festival, moving on to the Isle of Wight festival and some others in Europe, but I knew that Glastonbury was an event and location that I just had to experience. I felt unusually apprehensive after parking the car and walking toward the entrance – was this experience to be on a par with the scene I had fabricated in my head? I had heard so many stories both of jubilation and of despair and the excitement was hard to bear.

Arriving through the pearly gates I was greeted by a metropolis of happy people, broken sack trucks and sun – it was a good start.

I’m sure if Rosita was to go she’d be able to see past the loud acid house music that never stops at Arcadia, the disarray of the toilet situation and the abundance of mud, for the sheer beauty of a Somerset sunset alone. I will recommend to her that this shouldn’t be somewhere she merely thinks of going to but does, one year, invest in a ticket. And anyone else for that matter. 

I write this article sleep deprived, slightly suffering from no longer fuelling my temporary alcohol dependency and with a slight sense of numbness from not being around awesome people, amazing music and a euphoric atmosphere – the combination of these has it seems caused me to reflect on both my time at the festival and my outlook on life.
I listened to a podcast with Louis Theroux which talked about the act of being cowardly. He professed to be a person that is cowardly in certain situations, such as interviewing a dangerous person that if given the chance would rip his head off for no reason. Louis does not enjoy conflict or confrontation but has an overwhelming desire to tell stories, which he does incredibly well. His drive for getting in a room with a psychopath and asking a question that might agitate, is driven by his raw fear of not being able to get the right story. If I relate this analogy to myself, I could say that sometimes I do get scared of doing things and pushing myself but over time I’ve realised that the fear of regret is often a hundred times stronger than the fear of death. So I do as much as I can, when I can, if I can. This was reflected heavily at the festival – I made friends with strangers, saw genres of music I would never dream of normally seeing and became accustom to a way of life I didn’t know existed.

Glastonbury is going to make it difficult to go to another festival again. It’s hard to explain why, except to say that it has evoked something new in me. Everyone is so friendly. Each of the security guards and stewards will often greet you with a smile and perhaps even “have a great festival”, not the ‘I’m in charge here’ attitude you see elsewhere. There are also no restrictions on what you can bring into the festival which adds a different dynamic to the classic ‘you must pay a stupid amount of money for our beer and it tastes terrible’ mentality that is so generously offered at other festivals.

I also had the revelation that I’m sure others also had, the food. The festival provides some of the most amazing food of all shapes, sizes, flavours and cultures. Whether it’s traditionally cooked jerk chicken you’re after or South African stew in bread, they’ve got it! I think the festival should be renamed Glastonbury Music and Food festival. #justsayin.

If you’re in limbo about whether you should be registering for next year’s ticket, firstly, I would recommend the festival regardless of whether your favourite bands are playing. Glastonbury’s atmosphere and whole attitude is one of absolute beauty and I defy you to not have fun. Secondly, you’re a coward if you don’t – yes, that means you too Rosita!

Eavis, you’ve done a great job buddy.