Glastonbury, Volume Two: Fashion

So you've got your ticket, found a pitch, met up with your friends and are ready to hit the festival. But what to wear? Well, the simple rule at Glastonbury is that there are no rules. Literally anything goes.

As we dressed for comfort (it was the hottest Glastonbury festival in the 40 year history) we certainly didn't stand out....

Heck, even these guys didn't raise many eyebrows.

Nor did these guys...I mean, frankly you have to push the boat right out to make a splash. However, something like this is just the thing to make people stand to attention.Or you can really go to town and hook yourself up with an outfit like this...Actually, I had to check my photos the following morning for that one because I was convinced I dreamt meeting them. Just goes to show that dressing up is for everyone. Even the festival staff wear whatever takes their fancy. This girl was handing out loo rolls.And the boys in blue got into the spirit of things. But when it comes to performers, the fancy dress closest is your oyster. So even though you have the opening slot on Sunday, you should still make an effort. Some got it right and pulled out all the stops. This is Paloma Faith and those are giant, erm, balls. Or ovaries. We couldn't decide.Florence opted for a simple dramatic frock to go with her flame red hair. That'll do nicely.However, some people decided that all you really needed was a good ass shake.While some missed the point entirely. Oh Kate, I remember when the best thing about your act was that you weren't bad looking.

But my top two tips are these:

1. wear decent shoes. I opt for Birkenstocks during the day, but switch to my trusted Hunter wellies when the sun goes down because frankly I moan like a little bitch when I'm cold and that's not fun for anyone.

Sadly, the Eco Black Belt (despite being a master of the ancient arts of kung fu) is not the master of her footwear. Having ditched one pair of flip flops already she bought a cheap replacement pair at the festival. £7. It's probably not going to shock you that they lasted only a few hours.

So after drunkenly wandering the festival looking for the fucking charlatan that sold them to her (seriously, you don't want to mess with her) we decided the only thing to do was repair them til we could get back to camp. Remember how I said her boyfriend (Outdoors Man) could survive in the desert on 2 pieces of string? Well, he's pretty handy with shoddy footwear too. 2. Wear a hat. Not only will you keep the 10 hours of sun off your face, but you will also style up any outfit and express your inner self. Apparently I married a cowboy.

And that's Fashion, Festival stylee. Stay tuned for the Food Chapter. And yes, eventually I'll actually write about the music.

Glastonbury, Volume One: Camping

First off, I was ill-prepared for how big this festival is and the volumes of material it would inspire for this blog. I'm going to have to cover this over a few days, so consider this a multi-parter that should hopefully cover all you need to know about attending a festival. Although Glastonbury is not my first, it is the biggest UK festival and is the most awesomest (yes that's a word.)

Right, camping up first.

To start, and I can’t stress this enough: camp with people you really like.

I repeat: camp with people you REALLY LIKE.

As there are a total of 8 showers for a campground of 175,000 people, chances are you won’t be getting more than a splash of water from your water bottles if the taps haven’t run dry (which they did at one point). Ensure that your camping styles are similar and that you can tolerate these people in times of stress and discomfort (their and yours). As you can see, I have selected long time camp mates Eco Black Belt and her boyfriend, Outdoors Man. She can kick your ass with just her thumbs and he could survive on 2 pieces of string in a desert (probably). So, they make an excellent choice.

OK, that covered, it’s time to find a location.

It's critical to your enjoyment of the festival to set yourself up in a decent spot. For different people, this means different things. If you want to be as close as possible to the action, camping in the first designated camping areas by the footpaths nearest to the stages is IT. However, these areas get so overcrowded you can feasibly wake up to find your back hurting from the tent pegs of your neighbour's tent you are now sleeping on top of. (I'm dead serious: see picture below). Though you will avoid the long schlep back to the darkness of the fields further back, you will need to arrive very early to get these spots. Like gates-open-2 days-before-festival kind of early. Worthy Farm covers 1100 acres and that’s fucking massive when you are trying to run between stages to catch your favourite stars. Over the weekend, we each walked well over 20 miles.

Beware though, a pitch in the heart of it means that people are trudging past your tent 24 hours a day. Almost everyone (not any of our party, obviously) will throw a little garbage as they go from the snacks they’ve grabbed on the move – garbage bins are too few and almost all are full anyway. So be warned, if you camp by a walkway you may wake up with the stench of a half eaten plate of falafel.However, some lebanese take away smells are not the only problems with pitching here. Nope. You'll find that some people will shuffle quietly on their way past your spot, but most will drunkenly stomp and dance past while belting out the songs from the latest act they have just watched. Indeed, some will take the opportunity to piss on your tent and some will even throw up on it. Worse still, your tent has the lowest security factor and anything you leave there has a less than average chance of still being there when you get back.

In those characteristically Glasto muddy years, your tent could be flooded out as the closest tent pitches to event stages lay in the middle of the valley. The picture below is from the infamous 2005 festival. And remember, this is normally a dairy farm and the flooded ground is full of whatever cows leave behind, mixed with water and the waste of the fellow campers who we have established have questionable waste management concepts. Yep, that's why high ground should be considered.Even in dry years you have the dust to contend with. And it covers everything. Fortunately Eco Black Belt formed a solo advance party and set up camp for us on Wednesday and selected a pitch that was fabulous: away from the wetter areas, not next to a walkway and not next to the loos. The site met with approval from all of us, particularly Outdoors Man. Behind him is the full vista of the festival.So, having settled yourself on a pitch further away, but more secure and less grotty you’d think that’s the last of your troubles.. right?

Uh no.

See, whilst you won’t have the worry of passers by to taint your experience, you will still have neighbours. And close ones at that. Below is our old red tent on the left, and Eco Black Belt and Outdoors Man’s blue one on the right. See them? See that nice clean area in front of ours? Yes, we are those people. The Tidy Campers.

Now, zoom in and see how close our neighbours are and what kind of filthy tossers we shared a space with for 4 nights. They were the pill-popping, party all night, come back super late and be really loud types. And yes, we found a pot noodle cup of urine in our area. Sigh. Keep calm and carry on, right?At the end of the week, we dilligently followed the Love The Farm - Leave No Trace ethos that event organiser Michael Eavis promoted after one of his cows died from eating a tent peg left in the ground. See? Nothing left behind. .....aaaaaand here's what the younger people on one side felt was appropriate to leave behind for someone else to clear up. Yes, that's a chair and a saucepan you can see in the picture. The fire was kept alight some nights with a selection of plastic objects. Charming. It's a shame people like this aren't held responsible...
Right - that's the first chapter... stay tuned for more on food, fashion and yeah - music!

Glastonbury Festival - the prequel

It's summer in Britain and other than Wimbledon tennis, highs of 24 degrees Celsius (75F) and a stampede of pale fleshed people the moment the sun comes out, Britain is also famous for the legendary Glastonbury Music Festival in Somerset. 2010 sees the 40th anniversary of Glastonbury and for the very first time I will be there (though they aren't using that in their marketing for some weird reason).

And it's a good thing too. It looks like I have Guitar Hero'd myself into a lather. Fortunately the weather is forecast to be kinder than it has in previous years...

Eco Black Belt has already forged ahead a day in front of us to set up camp. She sends the report to say that a couple of people got there before her. We shall bring Outdoors Man (her boyfriend) with us tomorrow. And then the cider shall flow in earnest. A full report to follow on my return. Until then...

rock on!

By the way, loving the extra 'followers' I have gathered in the last month! Welcome to the Vegemite World!

Ingrid Michaelson - Best Gig Ever?

Date: Thursday 20 May, 2010, 7.30pm
Venue: The Deaf Institute, Manchester
Face value: £10
Support Act: Some guy from Greenland and Troubadour Rose
Gig buddy: The Husband

It's a big call to label a gig as Best Ever. Think about it - since The Husband and I started dating, we've seen about 50 gigs together and many many more before we ever clapped eyes on each other. To be the best you have to knock Bic Runga from her seat in the Spiegeltent in Brighton. You have to boot Sia off the microphone in The Night and Day Cafe. So a little perspective is required here. So let's have it.

Firstly, the venue was awesome. From the outside The Deaf Institute looms over a Mancunian side street like any other crumbling Victorian facade. Nothing special to look at. But wander inside to the shabby chic rich blood colours and decandent wallpapers and you find something else entirely. A tribute to classic design and an intimate little venue. And shit, the bar looks like this:

Look closely and you will spot The Husband. Find him?

And the stage, flooded by natural light from the Victorian atrium skylighting, looks like this:

But weirdly, my favourite design feature was in the toilets. Covering the walls was the best of all the wallpapers. And I was compelled to snap it just so you could get your mind around its awesomeness. I present: Bad Dolly, Good Dolly. Yep, a wallpaper in tribute to Ms Parton. How rock is that?

And the Music? Well we missed the first support act, Troubadour Rose. Never fear, I met them on the smoker's ledge outside (I just wanted some air, yet ironically, I don't smoke) and one of the eager band members offered me a CD. She was willing to part for it for nothing, but I told her that I would pay if she signs it. She says £3 but I give her a fiver and tell her I'll hunt her down if it's shit. She laughs nervously but signs the CD graciously.

The Husband and I head back inside to catch the guy from Greenland. I should really write stuff like names down, right? He's pretty good and very appreciative of the audience so we settle ourselves at the bar. And that when we spot that not only does this venue serve Kopparberg (I'm partial to a fine Swedish cider) but they serve Delirium Tremens. This is awesome news. And it's not everyday you find it in Manchester. Hell, it's barely any day that you find it here. So The Husband and I got chatting about Boston and Raleigh and how much they would appreciate where we were standing now - at a Ingrid Michaelson gig, in a great venue, drinking their favourite beer. And so I took a picture of how close we were to Ingrid singing and sent it to her:

Oh yeah, I'm a real peach of a friend like that. You see, not only was Ingrid singing, but she was doing the song that Raleigh played for us in a car somewhere. A cool version of Radiohead's Creep. I got a message back, something along the lines of BITCH BITCH BITCH!! And I laughed as I enjoyed the rest of the gig. The gig itself was all killer, no filler. Having soaked up everything available to me on iTunes, I knew every track. What made the performance even more awesome was her mad skills on the loop-machine thingy providing her own vocal percussion to an accoustic version of REM's Nightswimming. Little known fact here: The Husband owns everything that REM has ever done. Every track, every album - shit, we've even got a coffee tray from one of their tours. So seeing his face beam in surprise and appreciation projected the evening a little further towards Best Gig Ever status.

Thinking of the accolade, in both instances before, I have met the artist. And so, I decided to risk missing the last train back to the country to hang about and see if she would come out and meet fans.

And lo! She did.Oh yeah, I'm looking smug here. And so I should. I've just seen the Best Gig Ever.

Rating: You need to ask? 5 guitars, no question.

Powderfinger - One Last Time

Date: Thursday 3 June, 2010, 9.00pm
Venue: Acadmey 2, Manchester
Face value: £18.50
Support Act: Bob Evans
Gig buddy: The Husband plus a coupla hundred Aussies

Remember the Ash Cloud That Shall Not Be Mentioned? Well, it turns out that it had a silver lining to it. Popular Aussie rock band, Powderfinger (all hail The 'Finger) were meant to play Manchester on The Husband's birthday, when we were meant to be in Australia. But because of the ash cloud that stopped us swapping hemispheres it also meant that the Brisbane boys couldn't get to Old Blighty either. Bad times. However, a good friend of mine (hereafter known as The Rock Goddess) had tickets to the show, which was re-scheduled for 3 June and since she was having major dental surgery yesterday, she generously face-valued those tix my way. Good times.

Doesn't sound like a big deal right? Except that Powderfinger are splitting up and this is their last tour ever. Yeah - ever. The now-swollen chipmunk-faced Rock Goddess is taking extra meds just to cope with the pain of her incredibly bad luck.

Anyways, on with the show. We imbibe a Swedish beer or two at Kro Bar across the road as usual and miss the support act (Bob Evans). Not heard of him and not fussed - we were late anyway on account of working our little cottons off this week.

Powderfinger start the set with a rocking tune probably from the last album that I haven't procured yet before getting into 'Lost and Running' from the Dream Days at the Hotel Existence album. It's a favourite track of mine, and I'm disappointed that it starts sloppily however two verses in it finds the bridge, the key change and it knocks up a gear. Bernard's voice is as good as ever. I swear I'm the only person in the room who's loving this song, but nevermind.

All the favourites make the set list (These Days, Don't Wanna Be Left Out, My Happiness and My Kind of Scene) and there is even a tip of the cap to one of their oldest hits: Pick You Up. 15 years since that came out - god I feel old now. The boys still know how to rock it, and the show was a great finale to the years of gigs I have seen them play. 2 encores and I'm a little misty (if I'm totally honest I was choking up a bit) when they did an extended accoustic version of These Days with Bernard on the piano.

Verdict: Yes, it was my kind of scene alright. Shame the party is over*.

Rating: 4 and half memorable guitars, easy.

*Bernard is doing solo stuff, so you can still hear his stunning vocals on Tea and Sympathy. Buy it here