So that’s it another one bites the dust. Back home after a coach trip home and in camp Fay for 5:30pm on the Monday. That lovely first shower and as if by magic as soon as I got back in the house I got to have a poo on my own throne. Then later on the orgasmic feeling of lying on your own bed and going to sleep in pure comfort after 5 nights trying to stay on a paper thin camping matt that clearly wasn’t thick enough or indeed wide enough. Tuesday was started with a lovely outdoor breakfast down Otterspool as the post Glastonbury blues had kept away, but how this was about to change. Come Tuesday evening my guts decided to pack in and let’s just leave it at it was like having a wee out of my batty. Such disruption caused me to have to take an extra day off work as my love affair with the toilet went a bit too far. I had set my Glastonbury 2015 playlist up to re-live the memories of everything I had watched and such was my mood my dulcet tones were echoing around the back enogs (Alleyways) of Aigburth as I was proudly singing along to “Three Times A Lady” and “Hello” but without the sneaky tear in my eye of the actual event. I haven’t watched much of it back on TV yet though a lot of the bands I watched would not feature in the coverage. For the record this is what I got to see.
Hobo Jones & The Junkyard Dogs
Django Django (Williams Green)
The Waterboys (From a far)
Dr John Cooper Clarke
The Mothership Returns
Public Service Broadcasting
The Bootleg Beatles
The Chemical Brothers
So many memories, some recalled, some hazy and some lost forever in the boundaries of Glastonbury. We finally found out the location of the secret underground piano bar but swerved it as it was now more of a tourist attraction rather than a hidden gem. We had to stomach consuming Thatcher’s cider. Not a bad bevy but just the name is enough to put you off. Again I did not do an after hours Glastonbury either being sidetracked elsewhere or just being too done in post midnight to muster up any energy though we did have a good go at after hours dancing at Arcadia one night and I remember a remix of a classic from Liverpool’s Quadrant Park being dropped. How can I forget the dysfunctional family from Ryhl we met who’s father figure in his 50’s was that off his face he made himself a roll up cigarette and then the tobacco fell out but oblivious to his poorly made fag the proceeded just to light a Rizla nearly setting himself alight ha ha. Back at campsite somebody had decided to bring tins of sardines to consume. What is that about ? Sadly one of our fave bands The Destroyers did not play this year but we did meet a fellow fan and who can forget meeting the Scott of the Antarctic boys (Pictured below)
As mentioned in a previous blog I did have the cunning plan of wiring notes to recall memories. Sadly at times I was in such a state that this didn’t happen. As you can see by Wednesday’s list you can tell that night defended into drunkenness. There is a prize if anybody can actually decipher the last note (below) and jog my memory.
So thanks to all those that came and all those we met. I hope my 16 year old niece and nephew will remember their first Glastonbury with uncle knobhead. All eyes to October now for the great ticket hunt. Depending on when the fallow year is we could well be taking my then nearly 12 year old daughter to experience Glastonbury (Whilst she is free) so that will be a different Glastonbury for me and I might actually be able to write eligibly at the end of the night. I have already plans for next years hat that will involve it being some kind of glitter ball. My personal hat designer my father in law will be soon on the case.
So below are a few of my pictures from 2015 click on em for a larger version.
Fay x x x x x x x