Glastonbury, 1995
*cue wavy lines*

I bought a ticket (or rather my parents did, only cost £50 back in the day) and paid my proper rail fare like a good little boy, although most of my mates bunked both the fare and the fence.

My friend sprained his ankle jumping the aformentioned fence and we had to cart him around in a shopping trolley for the rest of the weekend. We then proceeded to do acid for the first time and smoke shit hash, wander around the site in a LSD-induced haze looking for some relatives of a friend who were supposed to be in various different magical locations..

Then a load of stuff got robbed from my tent and I had to bunk the fare home, somehow managed to walk straight through the main entrance of Glastonbury train station and none of the ticket inspectors stopped me! Me and 2 fellow fare-dodgers then had to hide in the train toilets while the inspectors went past, holding the door shut so the 'engaged' sign wouldn't light up.

I finally arrived home looking like I'd been dragged backwards through a hedge, the shower I had was like mana from heaven. Good clean youthful fun I suppose, but dear god, NEVER AGAIN.

The bands weren't bad either.
( Finite "Aardvark sorted out my shit!" on, Fri 5 Jun 2009, 16:51, Reply)