Glasonbury - Last Day

Sun was actually shining this particular morning, which was a relief as we had to pack up early as we planned to leave straight after our shift and did not want everything festering in the car.

Rob and I headed off to the Jazz Stage to see Charley's choir, Sense of Sound. We knew Charley was beside herself with excitement as Glastonbury is every musician and singers dream, something to tell the grandchildren, but when we found Jane and Roger, they had terrible news. The bus that was due to pick up the bulk of the choir members and bring them down from Liverpool never turned up, leaving them stranded up there, with only about 8 choir members already at Glastonbury. Since the choir consists of around 32 people, you can imagine how they felt. Poor Charley was devastated, but they made the brave decision to get up there anyway, and give an improvisational performance. So we sat on the field, in the sun, hearts in mouths, willing them to do okay. Jane was so nervous she was nearly in tears, but as soon as they started to sing, it was obvious they would be okay and the crowd was incredibly supportive. So Charley got her moment of glory after all, even if it wasn't exactly as she had anticipated it.

We got back and Sarah had been doing her mothering bit, and organised everything, so we packed it away. The walkway to the car park was like the trail of migrating wildebeasts, with exhausted looking people pulling, pushing and carrying their belongings and small children. The detritus that was left behind was staggering - some of it not even rubbish, but whole tents simply abandonned, as if the occupants had just vanished. No wonder it takes weeks to tidy it all up.

We then headed off to find our various children, and we sat in the sun, drinking the most delicious fresh lemonade. My pleasure was somewhat marred by my urgent need to go to the loo, which, everytime I tried, remained an unfulfilled need, because my body simply would not 'open up', if you get my drift. I've never thought of myself as a particularly anal person, but have been proved wrong.

So, shift started at 6.30pm and we went to our usual slot backstage. THere was very little going on, since Glastonbury winds down on Sunday evening, and there were a couple of interminable DJ's mixing various noises with that sort of steady beat which could engender some sort of epileptic fit in the faint hearted, but left me wanting to smash up all the equipment. Sam, who had spent almost every shift trying to chat up a series of rather gorgeous women, this time 'discovered' some alchohol and kept returning with more and more bottles tucked into his jacket. By this time, we were prepared to bend the strict no alchohol rules, in fact, sheer tedium forced us to drink the time away. This made it much more pleasant. Pete let us go a bit early. TO be honest, I don't think he could have survived much longer and nor could his poor steward partner, who looked as if she would rather pull her toe nails out than endure anymore of Pete's 'conversation'. We went and collected the various bits of luggage which various children needed to put in our slightly bigger car, and then headed home.

Already, the bad bits were becoming a distant memory and our reminiscences became ever rose tinted, until we had convinced ourselves that every second had been sheer joy - a bit like childbirth. You vow never to go through it again, but soon find yourself in the same boat, and it's not until the labour begins that you suddenly remember the reality. So, we had to have a drink or two to Glastonbury 2008.

My main regret? Missing Leonard Cohen. Gutted.