A week ago my friend and I were driving down the M6 and M5 towards Pilton for our first visit to the Glastonbury Festival (I grew up at the wrong end of the country so had not been there before). A couple of years ago we found ourselves asking why we had not been and eventually managed to get tickets. After an uneventful drive and a long hot walk carrying our stuff, we found a good spot to camp near the periphery fence and got the tent up.

It was almost a home from home with some girls from Liverpool nearby trying to pitch their tent. They had hairdos with curlers, full-on makeup and pretty dresses. One said ‘I’ve broken my nail on that thing’. We did not see them subsequently and assume that they descended to the same level of grunge as everyone else fairly soon.

Our tent was next to that of some guys from Birkenhead who started the next day with cider while we indulged in coffee and orange juice with egg & bacon bagels. We then walked over to the Healing Fields as my friend wanted a massage. We then spent the evening listening to some new bands before returning to the campsite and a campfire with our neighbours.

We spent the next couple of days immersed in the music on offer. At one point, an inflatable crocodile was being thrown about over the crowd at the other stage. Eventually, someone deflated it and I wondered why I had not done this before. We continued with our wanderings around the site, taking in live music all around. On Sunday morning we woke to rain and the only real mud of the weekend.

It soon dried up and that night we had a good position in the crowd. There were some guys from Liverpool in front of us who appeared to be modelling themselves on Gary Barlow with the same hairstyle and beard. We enjoyed that evening’s music and at the end, hit the road for the return journey. We will be back.