Glastonbury moments
Three stories of Avon and Somerset's finest

… before …

A friend and an acquaintance of mine decide to take the backroads route to the festival, and avoid the M4 traffic. Somewhere on the A303, they hit a tailback. Police are pulling over likely looking cars. Since they have a car full of camping gear, and a festival parking sticker already in the window, the chances of not being searched seem to be nil. This proves correct; they get directed into a lay-by, and a copper walks up to the drivers window. At this point, my friend who was driving starts to get concerned. Not for his own contraband, which is well enough hidden in the car that it would require a pack of sniffer dogs and the facilities of a small garage to locate. No, the acquaintance is a clueless muppet, and true to form has a bag of pills sat right in his jacket pocket.

The policemen starts to speak. "Hello boys. I can see you are off to Glastonbury. As you might be aware, there is a significant problem with drugs at the festival. Now, in order to make the festival a safer place, and to reduce administration time for the force, we are offering an drugs amnesty service before you arrive. If you have anything about your person that you shouldn't, you can just put it in that bin over there, no questions asked, no consequences. However, if we subsequently decide to search you, and find anything, then things may go a lot worse for you". My driving friend has one of those moments where the world just stops. He doesn't even get a chance to glance at the acquaintance to get a reaction, and decide whether to confess to the stash. Before he can speak, the policeman continues "But I can see from your reaction sir, that this doesn't apply to you. Be on your way, have a safe weekend!".

… during …

Geordie Dave is sitting in the Greenfields, contemplating life, and starting work on the umpteenth spliff of the weekend. Suddenly, two boys in blue walk up. "Excuse me sir, what precisely are you doing?"
"Errr .. what it looks like, I suppose. Skinning up. Sorry officers!"
"Well, we will have to ask you to accompany us to the site police station, sir". Dave is somewhat incredulous at this point, and thinks "Surely they aren't going to bust me for one little spliff? At Glasto for fucks sake". But the coppers insist.
"That's an illegal substance. Glastonbury Festival or not, we have to arrest you". Dave stands up, shrugs, and does the "clap the handcuffs on me" motion. "Unless you can help us with something, sir … You have to … tell us a joke!". Dave obliges (the exact gag is lost in the marijuana haze of time); the coppers laugh and walk off.

… after …

After Radiohead's 2003 set had melted my mind somewhat, I was foolish enough (ok, wasted enough) to put my bag down behind me while sitting at the Tiny Tea Tent. This was far too tempting for some reprobate to ignore, and not surprisingly it wasn't there next time I looked. Bugger. Cash, cards, phone, camera all gone. Not so disastrous in the grand scheme of things, but a bit of a downer.

Two weeks later, my dad gets a call from the Glastonbury lost property office. They have my phone and camera, which were found on the floor and handed in. When they turn up in the post, the camera has several pics of the inside of a police van, complete with a bunch of grinning coppers, who seemed to be enjoying their weekend very much indeed.

... length? the collapsible baton extends to about 26 inches ...
(Simian Typewriter Supplies Pty. Ltd. is house hunting in the neighborhood of infinity, Fri 6 May 2011, 11:31, 4 replies)

The A303 was probably the worst choice - single lanes and tailbacks guaranteed.
Definitely not a back road.
(oneinthepink is at your cervix m'lady, Fri 6 May 2011, 12:09, closed)

I take the 303 as far as the Henge
then take a back road from there
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Fri 6 May 2011, 12:53, closed)

Very wise sir.

(oneinthepink is at your cervix m'lady, Fri 6 May 2011, 12:55, closed)

Our first time at Glastonbury, the road we wanted to go down had a police 'road closed' sign blocking it off, but some other car went down it so we followed them. Down a long, empty road that brought us out opposite the main entrance, bypassing about 5 miles of stationary queue...

Second time, a police officer waved us off the motorway into their little mobile drug unit thing. Where the cop who came over and knocked on the window was wearing a 'don't walk on the grass, smoke it' T-shirt.
( FridgeBadger, Fri 6 May 2011, 14:32, closed)