I didn't know I was going to Glastonbury. Not until the phone rang late on the Thursday afternoon. Up until then I'd been considering making the most of the Festival via Channel 4. Though in truth I was kind of dreading the presentation if it was going to be anything like last year, with two complete tossers trying to pander to a presumed adolescent audience. I found the whole thing rather patronising, but what the Hell ? I had two cases of Boddies and a half ounce of good head. I reckoned things could have been a lot worse.

Anyway the phone went and to my surprise it was Gav offering me a place in his car down to Glastonbury. Someone had dropped out and I think he just wanted someone to make up the petrol money. So about twenty to eleven he and Pete turn up at my local. A couple of beers slid down beautifully and from there we went back to my place to pick up the Boddies. By half eleven we were on our way.

The journey down was pretty uneventful. Beer was drunk and 'erbs were smoked and the driver periodically refreshed himself with 'cola'. On arrival at the site we failed abysmally twice to sneak into the official car park. On the third attempt we were successful and by 6:50am we were checking the best place to try and breach the concentration camp style double fence between us and a weekend of mindless hedonism. Gav and Pete made it over first, leaving me in dumbfounded confrontation with a security guard and his dog.

Some twenty minutes or so later I succeeded in jumping from the top of the fence, via a rope ladder, and almost landed straight into someones camp fire. Collapsing in a heap I pleaded mercy to rest a minute whilst I got my barings.

"'ere you go man. Have a blast on that a minute.",

said one of the cam fire sitters. I was here !

Looking around me was breathtaking. From my perimiter position to the horizon I could see nothing but a multi-coloured sea of canvas. If there was more than four inches between tent pegs I'd have been surprised to learn it. My immediate problem now that I was in was to find Gav and Pete. I set off hoping for the best with visions of sleeping in the beer tent as all I was carrying for the weekend was what I was standing in, and my heads.

To cut a long story short by some miricle I met up with the other two some five minutes or so later. We pitched the tent, scored a full English breakfast each and went to fetch the stuff from the car. Gav had been driving al nightan' when we got back to the car he just keeled over and crashed out in the shade. Pete & I picked up as much as we could carry and headed back to the tent for some shut eye.

Some time later Gav arrived at the tent with his jewellery stock, he was there to make money, and woke us up. He said he was going to stay in and sort his stock for the morning, so me and Pete took a wander through tent city to try and get a grip on the geography of the place. That and get something to eat. The sights you see and hear walking around Glastonbury are by and large indescribable. The whole place is like a cultural cauldron. Its not a place for the narrow minded, the cosseted and closeted. Everything is in flux, and if your not prepared to adapt at the literal drop of a hat your going to be in for a shock to the system, the like of which you may never recover from.

At around 10:00pm me and Pete were standing in an ocean of people gathered around the Pyramid Stage to see pop darlings of the moment, Oasis. I'm not a big fan of this band. When they got about two songs into the set it looked like the brothers G- were about to have a full blown battle on stage. Things got sorted though before blows were exchanged and I began to see something that has been missing in the pop world for the last ten years, attitude. I have to admit I enjoyed their set. Everything you would expect to hear they played, including a song that was heavily indebted to Gary Glitter's Glitterband sound, and the first public performance of new single 'Roll With It'.

At some point following we headed back to the tent and shared a couple of cans and smokes with Steve and his girlfreind Jane, our neighbours. They had arrived some time Tuesday,

"… when the field was empty.".

They had done pretty well out of kids throwing their stuff over the fence before climbing it themselves only to leave it behind because they were being chased by security. Or, when they finally made it over the top they couldn't remember where they had thrown the gear over. Steve and Jane had arrived like myself, in what they stood in. Now they had a makeshift tent from a lost Flysheet, a cassette player, some blankets and a variety of camping and cooking equipment.

Some time after 9:00am I awoke with a nightmare desire to park yesterdays breakfast. Let me just say these few words on the toilet situation; it was shitty, literally. You could smell the bastard things long, long, long before you could see them. Only the brave and the desperate managed to last the twenty minute wait without keeling and wretching, only to be confronted by a none flushing mountain of turtles dressed in designer toilet tissue and sporting the odd tampon as a matching fashion accessory. Right there and then the decision was made to give the fantastic Thai, Mex and other exotic dishes a miss in favour of being able to recognise what you were eating and so hopefully avoid using these stinking port-a-shits again. If I had paid £65-00 for my ticket and been confronted by that, I think I'd have probably gone nuclear. But I hadn't paid, so I didn't let it worry me, too much.

By the time I got back to the tent Gav was already away setting up his pitch somewhere in the Healing Field. I gave Pete a shake and we made our way down to the NME Stage to take in Skunk Anansie. I don't know what went wrong, only that something did, because Skin and her crew only had time to do four songs. Opening with 'Little Baby Swastika' they went on to play 'Selling Jesus', then a new track which might be their next single, finishing with the thought provoking 'Intellectualise My Blackness'.

We decided to go find Gav after Skunk Anansie's set. It took us about two hours before we spotted him pedaling his wares. Along the way we took in The Bush Telegraph H.Q.. For those that don't know B.T. is the U.K. version of High Times. We also stopped in at the hydroponic supply tent and Herman The Hippie, where I bought a little servicible wooden site pipe for £2-50. A nice stash size. Cool toker too.

By 2:30pm I was positioned in front of the NME stage again, this time with a beer in each hand and an eight inch spliff protruding from my face. I had just scored a loose handful of buds from a Rasta with a full shopping bag and a kitchen knife. Zion Train shortly took the stage as I searched apathetically for Pete who I'd lost somewhere between where I was and the bar. The Zion Train set for me was the best hour of the weekend. With wicked dub reggae/ska beats, dance influences showing, and lyrics strong as RSJ's the Zion Train picked up a lot of new passengers. The best moment of their set, and incidentally the best moment of the weekend for me personally, was during the break between songs when ZT's darling lead singer in a tirade against the C.J.B. noticed a passing Bizzie helicopter. She asked us all to show the nice Policemen how we felt about living with Big Brother. We dutifully turned as one flicking V's, birds, and unleashed such a torrent of verbal abuse that the helicopter was driven off in fear of inciting a Riot. ZT then asked if the tokers in the crowd would raise their hands. Not a single hand remained limp as far as the eye could see.

I checked out half of the Dreadzone set before heading off to find Gav, Pete, or both. I found Gav, but he hadn't seen Pete for hours and was intent on selling his trinkets,

"See you back at the tent later.",

he said. So I trundled off to watch P.J. Harvey perform in a striking pink outfit. On the way I scored a $ acid tab from a Mancunian under a big tree. I got talking to another one in the crowd who had lost his mates just after getting here two days before,

"I haven't realy been looking for them. Bound to see them back in the local when I get back."

I shared my $ with him and we drifted off in different directions after the show.

The half acid had only whetted my appetite. I wasn't buzzing enough so I fished out the other half acid I'd scored sometime earlier the day before and necked that too. I went to see Galliano. For some reason I can't remember much following, with the exception of scoring a particularly good looking 8th of Skunk. I remember sitting at our camp fire, and I remember we ran out of beer. I remember me and Pete going on a mission to liberate the last case of Boddies, and I remember we stopped on the way for mushroom tea. The journey back is a bit misty though. All I know for sure is that we picked up a case of fifteen beers and woke up Sunday dinner time with three.

Gav was up hours before flogging his tackle, so we found something to eat and spent the afternoon napping in one of the tents in the Healing field. It was just too damned hot to do anything else. When I finally pulled myself together about 5:30pm Pete had gone missing and I was alone again. I was far from bothered though, I still had Gav's car keys. This may have been our last night, Gav may have wanted to leave early, but nobody was going anywhere until I went back with the keys.

I scored myself another English breakfast & dropped a California Sunrise acid tab with it. At 8:00pm I found myself chilling out to a well past their sell by date Simple Minds while I tried to work out if I was stoned immaculate gone cosmic, drunk as a lord, smoked like a kipper, or all three.

All three !

As the 'Minds' trudged through a version of Waterfront' I made my way back to the NME stage to take in Elastica. They were pretty good, but to be honest, nothing special. On thier last song, 'Vasaline', one of their Roadie's stripped naked on stage. I missed this naked spectacle although I was singing along, at the time I was trying to reach a urinal before I pissed myself. I also wanted to try and get a good spot to see The Cure. This turned out to be the most disappointing moment of the weekend. The Cure sounded tired, lazy, and worst of all old. I left halfway through an unremarkable set making my leisurly way back to camp.

On the way I stopped off for a cup of straight tea and chewed the fat with a muti coloured dread head who estimated the Glastonbury population this year to be about half a million. When I finally stumbled over the last few tent pegs on the approach to our camp I realised that the scenery had changed somehow. I couldn't work it out at first, then I realised the tent was gone. Pete ang Gave were sat on the bags around the camp fire waiting for me looking a little pissed off. They had been waiting for me for the last two hours.

Like I said, I had the keys. I was going home the same way I arrived.

Viper 29/6/1995-2005

___________________________________________________________

Lounge

All images & text ©Viperslair.co.uk

All rights reserved.

Any un-authorized publication of texts, parts of texts, or images, will result in legal action. Publishing permission can be obtained from Viperslair.co.uk by written request only.

First Published 12/9/2005 by Viperslair.co.uk

Re-published 1/1/2006

Web Site Design by Vipernet.biz 2003 - 2007