Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Glastonbury 2009 in one page
Bees swarm Starlings swarm. Fishes swarm. Insects swarm. Humans swarm at Glastonbury. Sometimes a swampy swarm, sometimes dusty and hot with sunburn, sometimes just right. 2009 was nearly just right. This year the weather gods reminded us of their power at the beginning and the end, but left us to get on with enjoying it in the main. But Glastonbury is more than just a swarm of people, so many in the hypnotic crowds that you forget that each is an individual, their faces are doors each into an intricate conscious world, all adding up to the meaning of Life, if we did but try to understand. Not just a swarm, there is music too. Neil not-so-Young as he once was, and Crosby Stills and Nash (why Neil no join them?) rock steady, and the Boss (heard 3 numbers but too strummy and shouty, went to the Chai Wallah instead) and the Specials, and Madness still mad after all these years, and an amazing Zimbabwean drum and singing group who are the new Ladysmith Black Mambazo, called Siyaya. And loads more too, too much to see it all. And poetry, a long poem about a bacon sarnie, and Amadou and many other African bands that serve to remind us that there is more to rhythm than boom-boom. Boom boom reminds you in the end of Baldrick's poem about the German Guns. And there is a cacophony of boom-boom, as different places play different tracks, and you can get stereo cacophony which makes it hard to think, so you have to go closer to one or the other source, and then it's hard to talk. Speaking of which, there is Mark Thomas, (wants to get the Duck Island on the Fourth Plinth, and Can Solve your Stop and Search Problems). And the Agroforesty Research Tust, and the Permaculture Garden and the vertical axis wind turbine. And food - the Buddhafield, La Grande Bouffe, Manic Organic, and Goan Fish Curries to name a few favourites. And lunacy of all types, e.g. The Tortoise and the Man on the Piano. And chainsaw juggling. And meeting people in the cafes and the queues for the lavvy, and talking to them and learning stuff and meeting old friends and chatting, and policemen with flowers in their hair (on their hats actually. Sunflowers. I wonder if they know the symbolism. And the policemen did not try to kettle us, in fact they would be hard put to do it, although they could close off the exit roads, but why would they wish to do that?), and the Glitzy Bag Hags, and Seize the Day and Greenpeace International Airport and Somerset farmers serving roasted freaks and and
This is not to be taken as a definitive report. The truth can only be approximated to by collating 250,000 other like reports.