Day 3 Glastonbury

No head in Sarah's crotch but did have knit/purl indentations on my face mingling in with the wrinkles of tiredness. Oh, and age. Our delightful neighbour had woken me much earlier with a hail of 'fucking bitch, cunt, bastard, fucking shut the fuck up..' at the top of his voice. Not sure who he was talking to but did not envy them. The spirit of Glastonbury!

It wasn't raining - cause for huge celebration - so we sat looking apprehensively at the clouds, trying to figure out whether it might rain and hence what to wear. Not that we had a huge amount of choice. Morning passed quickly, managed to blag a free breakfast from the steward's tent, Sarah having made friends with all the caterers the night before and then it seemed to be time for next shift. Having learnt our lesson previous night, we stuck like glue to Sarah and headed straight for the BBC tent and stood there purposefully, so much so that our lovely leader just left us there to get on with it, presumably making some other poor sod guard the frigging sand monster for 6 hours.

This was a much better day and we watched act after act strutting their stuff - some of it was great, much of it was not to our taste. There was a hilarious public school boy band and I watched the proud parents bopping in a sort of middle aged awkward way, secretly laughing at them, until I realised I probably look exactly the same! How embarrassing. Hadn't heard of any of them but then again, I suppose that's why it's called the 'introducing tent'.

Met some nice people from various BBC radio stations and thrust Yes Sir Boss's CD into their hands, begging them to listen, which they probably didn't. The time didn't exactly fly by, but it was less painful than the previous night and we actually had the energy that evening to go and see Yes Sir Boss again at the Avalon Cafe. Same venue as last year. We had a couple of glasses of wine before we set off and a couple more in the cafe, so we were all happy (especially me) and YSB were absolutely brilliant - better than the Pussy Parlour. Chatted with a lovely bloke who had seen them a couple of times and sought them out specifically. He was just about to leave halfway through when I persuaded (bribed) him to stay by offering their CD if he did. His mates left him there, but he stayed. Bless him. Felt all that mother's pride of seeing 'my boy' looking handsome and relaxed, doing what he loves to do. Quite emotional too, probably alchohol induced.

Tumbled into 'bed' very late, but the sun had shone and life seemed good, though my stomach felt like a blown up balloon due to the consumption of nothing but carbohydrates for the last two days. We decided this was a good thing because it clogged you up so much you couldn't go to the toilet, which, to be frank, was a blessing. Eventually it had to be faced, but procrastination was an excellent idea, as I discovered on Sunday morning. But that's for another time.