Juno Gemes, 1968
“Aubrey Mellor called 1960’s “The Utopian times” That’s accurate to me- as we imagined other worlds were possible - looking to the wisdom of the past - through the lens of acid and other visionary aids - we set out to create our new vision of cooperative egalitarian creative society in tune with ancient wisdom and earth laws - we had no templet or maps of any kind as to how this would work as a living process . But we were ready to try find it or invent it. And we had a visionary friend John Michell who had a vision and through the writings on The Ancient Sacred Tracks by William Stukeley, his own wide knowledge and his training in antiquarian matters and his own visionary intuitions, he started retracing those sacred tracks with his friends - on foot - sometimes setting out from camps of Gypsy Wagons of friends - to rediscover The Valley of Avalon - an astronomical map of the Heavens reproduced in reverse on that sacred valley of Avalon around Glastonbury Tor. It might have been in 1968 that I was among a small group of John Michell’s friends who accompanied him and met up below Glastonbury Tor to dance and celebrate The Summer Solstice together on the flat lands between the Tor and the Rose Bush planted by Joseph of Arimathea. Dave Tomlin played the fiddle others played tambourines as we danced merrily around in joyful celebrations of the Summer Solstice. At night we camped around fires, sharing meals and stories. I think Mark Palmer and Catherine Tennant were there as well as Julian Lloyd and Victoria Henrietta Moreas , Martin Wilkinson too along with a dozen others.
Thinking back now beyond 50 years , this was the first time Glastonbury was celebrated on a small scale in this way and in some ways leads to all the others celebrations of Glastonbury as the mystical Centre it is. John Michell’s books ‘Flying Saucer Vision’ and ‘The View of Atlantis’ were both published and being widely read in our circle at this time . The questions in motion and practice were how can we live this new visionary life?
Friends began to acquire land and settle in the valley. Travellers came and went.
The experiment had begun.”
Photo © Juno Gemes
Jenny Vesty, 1970
“I was at the first festival in Pilton with Michale, my ex husband who sadly passed away earlier this year. On either the 30th anniversary or the 40th, probably the latter, I was driving by the site thinking “Was it really that long ago and was I really there?” when on the radio I heard him being interviewed, talking about the first one and what it was like then. He had gone on to work on the acoustic stage in latter years.
As the saying goes “If you can remember it then you weren’t there” All I can remember is that it rained right up to the day that it started, we were there to help set it up so didn't have to pay £1 entrance fee. It was held in two fields, not a lot of people came, there was a St John’s Ambulance, an ice cream van and the sound system was crap!”
Ian Anderson, 1970
“Glastonbury was – well – some wobbly planks on some scaffolding in a field, with canvas covering in case it rained (luckily it didn’t). The PA was minimal, there were no monitors for the musicians (but then that was what we were used to in those days), but all was perfectly fine for a small event. The security fence in front of the stage was a few stands of wire between wooden posts: very farm like! I have no recall of the state of catering or loo facilities, so they must have been OK.
I just remember our gang lounging on the grass, like everybody else as was the hippy habit in those days, and watching whoever came on. I’m not entirely sure that those appearing on the day bore much relation to the poster. Quintessence, Amazing Blondel and Stackridge (several times, i.i.r.c.) came and went.
When it was time for my set, I did some solo things, then brought up hirsute bongo player, the late Ian Turner (aka “Heavy Drummer”) and guitarist Ian Hunt. We kept getting signals from the wings to keep going. Eventually, when we finally got the sign to finish we dragged up most of our gang – musicians, girlfriends, writers from Melody Maker and Sounds, hangers on – in a ramshackle attempt to summon up some “Woodstock Spirit” with a version of Country Joe’s Fixin’ To Die Rag.”
David Trippas, 1970
"I heard about a small festival being held on a farm at Pilton near Glastonbury. Rolling up my doss bag I hit the road. Soon arriving at Worthy Farm I found that although there was an entrance charge no one really minded if you didn’t pay and there was free milk being given away in cartons. It was a real farm as an abandoned old bath lay on the grass in front of the farmhouse being used as a water trough for the cattle. I blagged some food and went in search of music, finding Marc Bolan with Tyrannosaurus Rex performing in a field not far from the left of the farmhouse. The band where set up on the grass, with a haphazard bit of scaffolding covered in a green tarpaulin forming this small stage, only a few people were watching. Marc produced a professional set and I wandered off.
The farm was at the top of a small valley and it seemed to me that the best place for a stage was near the bottom of this natural curve in the largest of the small medieval fields. I was under the impression that the farmer had lost a lot of bread, having heard that he’d been fined 2K for selling milk from a brucellosis unaccredited herd, though it was never confirmed. What with the cost of the bands, I felt he’d taken a big hit and I felt sorry for him, at least he was trying to create a festival. I learnt later that he too had been to the Bath and West showground, having like me got under the fence for free. I went into the farmhouse’s main room and put my ideas to Michael. Michael listened patiently as I put on my best spiel, honed from many months selling original art. I explained that I would endeavour to find the money for him to put on another festival and that the natural amphitheatre that the farm presented was the best place for a stage. Having said my piece coloured by my travels, I thanked him and left to hitch hike to London, the only person who I knew who might help was Mick Farren of International Times and in no time at all I was talking to him. Mick is a nice bloke and had treated us well at Phun city, I laid my trip on him and the only person he could think of was Geoffrey Ashe the magical writer and historian, though I was to contact him other things were happening. I decided to go to Kensington market which at the time was a magnet for alternative people.
I’m a talkative person and get on with most people. At the front of the market I got chatting to a lady on a stall and told her my festival tale, she listened generously and to my surprise mentioned a bloke called Andrew Kerr who wanted to put on a free festival, she gave me a few pennies to ring him. We got on fine and he invited me to see him, she then gave me the bus fare to travel south of the city near the river and I duly arrived at a smart new house in a small close and introduced myself to Andrew. I told him about Worthy farm and seeing I was on the road he kindly let me have a bath and a good supper. Before I went to sleep that night Andrew told me that he was the private secretary for Arabella Churchill a relation of the late Sir Winston Churchill.
In the morning Andrew decided to go and meet Michael at Worthy farm and we climbed into his 3 litre non coupe Rover and headed out. It was a treat not to be hitch-hiking. We stopped at Avebury on the way down and did a bit of dousing with a hazel stick I had cut from the hedge row. After this rest we arrived at the farm where the festival was winding down and standing near the farmhouse Michael appeared, Andrew having not seen him before took no notice of him, so I told him that that was the farmer and he went over to introduce himself. At that moment the free Glastonbury Festival of 1971 was born."
Will Blomfield, 1970 & ‘71
“The opening day of the first Glastonbury, 19th September 1970, coincided with my 2nd birthday - that's me hugging my mum - and being so young I don't remember anything about it.
My dad was a very keen amateur photographer and so we have quite a good record of both the 1970 and '71 events. Up until the late 60s Dad was shooting almost exclusively in black and white but around 1970 he moved to Kodak colour slide film which was relatively unusual. His colour photos of the '70 and '71 festivals are therefore a pretty unique record of these events (I don't think I've ever seen any other colour photos from 1970).
From what I understand from my dad's recollections, the '70 "Pilton Pop, Blues and Folk Festival", as it was originally known, was a bit of a non-event. The hippy jungle drums had spread word of the festival to London where my parents lived at the time. They drove to the festival in a VW Camper out of idle curiosity and the fact that it only cost £1 to get in. Perhaps as a further incentive Worthy Farm was also offering free milk to festival goers and one of the photos I'm sending shows my mum clutching her jug of milk in the completely empty field with the stage behind her. There's also a photo of a group of festival go-ers sitting around the burnt out wreck of a farm waggon which they used for a camp-fire. I believe Michael Eavis was rather cross about this vandalism of his farm implement! He's the person being interviewed, possibly by the BBC, in one of the 1970 photos. The experience can't have completely put my parents off because they returned for the second festival in 1971 - one of my favourite photos is of a hippy getting a ride in a tractor bucket (I'm in the background with my mum). My dad's photos of 1971 festival are more striking as the event was clearly a little bit bigger and the Pyramid Stage was a great focal point but it was still tiny compared to the current version.”
Frank Millard, 1971
“The first time I went to Glastonbury I was a young art student who had heard about the place and felt compelled to go and see it for myself. I succeeded in persuading three friends that we ought to go there in the spring holiday rather than St Ives and so we set off to hitch down in pairs. We arranged to meet at the railway station little realising that there wasn't one or, at least, hadn't been since Dr Beeching closed the line. This my friend Rawdon and I discovered when we arrived a little way ahead of the other two. So, we went straight up the Tor thinking that was where our two friends would go and realised that we had arrived somewhere very special. However, it promptly poured with rain and we were forced to go back down in search of a camping place and so headed towards Cinnamon Lane. Camping proved a little difficult, however, because we found we had the canvas of the tent while the other two were carrying the poles and pegs. We spent an uncomfortable night in the doorway of the Methodist church at the top of the High Street and in the morning headed back towards the Tor. There we found the other two and sundry others. We met such people as Paul and Taj and several others, all very friendly smiling people. Wherever we went we were greeted by like minds, some like us and others much older, such as ladies who on reflection were probably some of the original 'Avalonians'. Other locals were less friendly and no hippy signs were everywhere.
The first few visits blur into one in some ways, but the open-hearted and open-minded attitudes of people stood out. No one preaching, but sharing experiences, knowledge and ideas. The local hang outs included the Abbey Cafe (otherwise called the Temple of the Stars), which had a juke-box and was the most relaxed vegetarian cafe ever. Round the back there was a room where lectures were held by people like Mary Caine and Sir George Trevelian. Pubs we could go in were led by the Rifleman's Arms under the Tor, which had a no patchuli wearers sign at one time, but we assumed in jest. At that time it was separated into parlours and had a hatch at the end of a short corridor. Another was the Queen's Head at the top of the High Street, which sold very strong cider. As young hippies we did not realise how strong and mixed it with pickled eggs, mars bars and peanuts. we suffered for it.
We heard a festival was going to be held at Worthy Farm and were concerned that it might spoil the wonderful atmosphere, but I determined to go. “
Sheila Burnett, 1971
“I traveled from West Ken with my sister in van of hippie types for the weekend bearing brown rice, mung tea, Wacky Baccy and one, maybe 2 tents.
I had arrived in London in 1969 with my friends from Birmingham School of Art. I carried a camera with me most of the time, like sketching really, just quicker.
I kept my camera hidden at Glastonbury, it was truly uncool to be taking photos, apart from that I was stoned most of the time.
It was also uncool to eat meat, my sis and I had bought some chicken with us and hid behind a tree to nibble.
Apart from Arthur Brown I only remember Fairport convention, we Idiot danced under the influence of something, my amber choker neckless broke whilst dancing.
I remember everyone trying to pick up all the beads and then heading back to this old tent where my traveling companions were omming.
OM means identifying with the universe, everyone sits is a circle holds hands and Oms …… very embarrassing for me, no one else seemed to mind.
Arthur Brown played late in to the night to a bombed out hallucinating audience of 12000.
He appeared in a cloud of smoke and fire, flashing lights and strobe wearing a horned helmet screaming I am the God of Hell fire and you are all going to die.
It was terrifying and another tab I had taken earlier kicked in, all the cars put headlights on and I could feel the earth sinking beneath me,
I remembered there was a bad tip tent, I wanted to go but it was full, someone actually told me THE BAD TRIP TENT IS FULL ! I woke up in an unfamiliar tent watching ants crawling up the tent pole.
Just outside the tent as the sun was rising, a half naked bearded chap had built a cross pointing to the Tor, he wore a loincloth and lay across the cross chanting.
One of the hippies I had traveled with called Ra (after the sun god) floated by, he wore a black cloak and silver make up and saluting the sun encouraging me to follow.
I watched as the cherubs danced in the pink sky and a rainbow arched over the Tor, a divine vision, this was the blotter acid wearing off.
I found out months later that Ra was a maths teacher called Rodney.
On this the last day I took out my camera and wondered around on my own, still camera shy but less intimidated by the flower children.”
Peter Gibson, 1971
“In 1970 my parents decided to join The International Academy of Continuous Education at Sherborne House, Gloucestershire. This was established by Mr JG Bennett who was continuing on from the teachings of Gurdjieff.
We had been living in suburbia. A large house in Kingston. We moved into a country mansion full of students from all over the world.. a brief glimpse of this place can be seen in the actress Diane Cilento's documentary produced by the BBC "One Pair of Eyes".In 1971 many of the students and their teacher, Mr J.G. Bennett, went to the Glastonbury Fayre music festival. You can see Mr Bennet talking about the festival in the documentary "Glastonbury Fayre".
I had a childhood memory of the festival. It was a dreamlike memory of a friendly raven. As I grew up I began to doubt that this ever happened. If I remember it right the raven was with someone at the festival but befriended me. It was very odd friendship as I had a bad association of raven type birds from reading the Lord of the Rings and Hitchock "The Birds" but I wasn't at all afraid of this fellow. I remember his sharp claws and his deep cackling voice.
The festival started out very wet and muddy but then it turned into a heatwave. In my parent's group of acquaintances, through our connection with Mr Bennett, were musicians like Arthur Brown, Robert Fripp, De Hartman, and actors like Diane Cilento.
I remember Jason Connery, son of Diane Cilento and Sean Connery (an actor who played one of the early roles as James Bond), going to our school for a short while and playing with us at Sherborne House. He is the blond boy in the clip from Diane's documentary attached.Arthur Brown was "responsible" for teaching me the rules of chess, which I then terrorised all the residents of Sherborne House, challenging them to matches where I would inevitably torture them with distracting behaviour and cheat when they weren't looking. I was a horrible undisciplined "hippy" child.
The music at the festival was amazing. However, the more amazing thing was the mix of people from all walks and classes of society getting together in a crazy, sometimes clashing, sometimes harmonious experiment of cathartic release from social norms and ways of thinking. The smell of cannabis and hot plastic of tents brings back these memories easily.”
Nora Stewart, 1981 (photo Royston Stone)
“Very early on the Sunday morning having not slept I went for a wonder. Near the Pyramid stage there was a small fire and a group of about 30 people gathered around it with a Druid calling up the sun . Much slow drums and chanting. I joined in with the others then me and the people on either side felt these balls of energy hitting us. It was the most extraordinary thing and something I had never felt before or since. they were about 3 inches in diameter and went right into you but felt light and good. and lasted well over an hour until I left to go wake the campsite and get them in on the action! No Chance !! It was like energy dancing around us. One of my strongest Glastonbury and life changing moments ever!"
Ian Mcleod, 1982
“Again, we hired a van – two drive in and the rest nick in. A few of us had tickets for Frank Zappa at Hammersmith Odeon for Saturday night. We thought we would be able to just pop over to London, see Frank Zappa, then drive back to Glastonbury and carry on where we left off. What could go wrong? Mud! I still have the unused ticket. I saw Man the Van, Jackson Browne but can’t remember who else. I bumped into a friend who was selling cider with a mate from the back of a van. He dropped a tab ‘Mickey Mouse’ I seem to remember and I have a photo of him giggling away while people queued up for cider. I can’t remember who was on stage when a large inflatable die tumbled over the crowd. On its way back it was covered in mud or cow muck. I think this was the year when one of us pitched their tent under the pylon cables. It charged up the tent poles with electricity and you would get a shock if you touched them.”
Brian Jones, 1982
“While we were staffing an internal vehicle gate, we got an urgent message on the walkie-talkie: a market trader had been robbed of his takings by some men, armed with a shotgun, who then drove off in a white van. All stewards were warned to look out for this van, not to try to stop it, but to radio in any sitings. However, to avoid causing alarm to anyone overhearing any radio messages about the armed robbers, we were told to only refer to the white van as “the white elephant”. Of course, everyone was on tenterhooks for the next half hour or so, but there were no further reports on the radio, and gradually everyone settled back into work as usual. A shift change occured, but we were working a double shift, so we stayed on duty at the gate. Some time into our second shift, Jan noticed a van travelling quickly towards our closed gate, which she was struggling to open; as she said “what's their hurry ?”, she realised that it was the white van that we'd be warned about some hours earlier. She jumped back from the gate, the white van hit the partly open gate, and carried on going. “We've seen the white elephant ! We've seen the white elephant !” Jan shouted into the walkie-talkie. “What are you talking about ?” came the response. “The white elephant ! We've seen it !” Jan replied. “What ?” she was asked again. “We've seen the white van with the robbers with a shotgun !” Jan finally said, as we realised that the people on the other end of the walkie-talkie had also had a shift change, and the white elephant code hadn't been passed on to the new crew!"
Rowena Draper, 1983
“Here's a little story for yas, it was the hottest summer since Anyone could remember and my parents decided to do Glastonbury. It was a time when the locals were not pleased at all and the road leading to the site had lots of police stoping and searching vehicles. So a long snail's pace to finally reach the entrance, find a spot for the VW caravanette and for my parents to set up the awning, hence my rather ruddy cheeks being confined and cooped up in such heat. My parents took me to a wonderful children’s area having come from the quietness of Cambrian Mountains in Wales where we made our own entertainment, this was a wonderland of pure joy.
My most joyous thing to do was to dress up from the fancy dress and head straight to a giant blown up bouncy cushion to jump around with a sea of other children. Later we went to the music. My parents met up with friends from Bristol and my mums brother, Uncle Marcus, from Scotland. Laying the picnic blankets down everyone decided to wear as little as possible, especially my uncle Marcus, brown as a berry, wearing a very colourful brief pair of under pants. Walking around exhausted with the heat my parents were absolutely astounded at a large group of shaved headed men, wrapped in orange garments playing music while jumping non stop to their beat, following the crowds. Some one stopped my parents with a rucksack on their back with some tubes dangling with knives in their hands asking if they would like to try some hot knives.”
Paul Clements, 1984
“Just waiting for "The Smith's" to enter main stage, 1984. This photo was taken by my good friend Anita Hambrook. Her then boyfriend Paul is laying next to me, worse for wear. He joined-in the stage invasion which meant The Smith's ended their set earlier than normal! Glastonbury was still pretty small then and with no security, which allowed for the stage invasion. Everything was all pretty gentle and everybody looked after each other. It was the year of The Miners Strike and I remember I lot of "Coal not Dole" stickers all over the place, which was great to see. It was also the year which I read Peter Kropotkin's fantastic 1902 book: "Mutual Aid: A Factor in Evolution" .. it kind of summed-up Glastonbury for me that year, living and working together, in a collective and collaborative way..”
David Trippas, 1984
“I hitched from the stones to Worthy farm and got in for free, no fences see, I had my camera with me, it was funny like crossing into another land. I parked myself, boots, sweater, a stripped suit top and shorts, by a bloke to the right of the farmhouse. He had a hut surrounded by a fence and a union jack flag on a flag pole. I pulled my coat over my head and crashed out, the first sleep for a couple of days after snorting that wizz at the stones.
When I woke up it was a glorious summers day and chummy with his flagpole leaned over his fence and said "24 people walked over you last night", you couldn't make it up, he must have counted and so it was festival time.
All I remember was the mud and Ian Drury getting it throw at him as he performed. He stopped singing and then went into Spasticus Autisticus, you could have heard a pin drop when he finished and then they went wild. The finest piece of stage craft I have ever seen. And that was that”
Steve Streetly 1985
“We set off from Blackpool and the oil light came on after about 10 miles, ignored it and hoped for the best. Got to M5 and car overheated and we pulled up in a village in Somerset. Miraculously a vicar came out of the house we stopped at and offered to fix the car, which he did (changed a belt or something) we offered to pay but he insisted he didn’t want paying and gave us a bible each. Bizarre but true. We got in the queue of cars and could hear a reggae band playing (either aswad or steel pulse?) two of the lads jumped out and went over the fence, we got to the gate and my other pal had a broken leg in plaster so I asked where we should park? They said turn left into field and we parked opposite the pyramid stage as v muddy. Left car there until we got towed out on Sunday. Didn’t sleep for 2 days had a memorable weekend.””
Carl Stickly, 1985
“Attached pic is from 1985 and shows my Uni flatmates, Andrea and Craig, braving the mud. I was about to go off to study in the US for a year so they'd come down especially for a last knees-up.
There were a lot of Travellers as Stonehenge Festival had been banned. Indeed, at Stonehenge itself on the A303 the police had set up roadblocks. If you didn't have a ticket for Glastonbury they wouldn't let you pass. All the small country roads had tons of gravel dumped on them to block vehicles. I lived 15 miles from Stonehenge and the whole week before the Solstice helicopters were overhead day and night. Fatcha smashing dirty, smelly Folk Devils!
I vaguely remember seeing Echo & The Bunnymen (with lasers!), Ian Dury and The Style Council (who got pelted with mud). But mainly rain. And mud. Lots of mud....”
Miranda Millan, 1985
“I was born in Undle Ground field on 23/06/85, after my parents were part of the peace convoy who had been caught up in Battle of the Beanfield. This photograph circa 1989 after spending all day making my outfit in the kids field. Glastonbury is my birthday party every year, best place on Earth”
Brian Carson, 1986
“Michelle went on to be a Scientist - I was a University Lecturer at the University of London and she had just completed her Ph.D. We were a Couple for some years {say 1985 to 1990} but she got a offer to work abroad and I have not seen her since - she was much younger than me and if she had been older I am sure we would have married.”
John Novis, 1987
“In June 1987, my two young daughters and friends set off for the annual Glastonbury Festival. I had a Volvo estate car with roof rack at the time so was able to take more than enough for the planned four days. We arrived on the Thursday morning and found other families and friends from my hometown in a perfect group tent pitch conveniently near the food village and main stage. The car park was quite a distance from the pitch so there were a number of treks to get all the gear from one place to another. Nevertheless, once settled and all tents were up, we were set have one hell of a great four-day Glastonbury party.
About halfway through the festival I decided to take a stroll and check everything was ok with the car. To my surprise the car park was quite different from when I arrived; it has become another huge crammed campsite with cars chock a block next to each. Once I located my car it occurred to me there would be zero chance, in an emergency, of making a getaway. However, that was not a worry, we were here till Monday morning when everything would be clearing nicely. There was something odd thing about the car, though. A group of revellers were using my tow bar to secure a guy rope supporting their large open military style tent. I was a bit miffed and thinking of asking them to use some other means of support other than my car. But then, hey, this is Glastonbury! It would be churlish of me to interrupt their fun to move the rope and what actual harm was it doing, nothing, leave it. So, I wondered back to our pitch grabbing a veg burger and Somerset cider on the way.
Sadly, Monday morning arrived after an amazing gig that only Glastonbury can deliver, yet happy to get going, looking forward to a long hot bath and savour the weekend’s memories with a pint at the local.
All packed in the car, my friends and daughters climbed in and off we set on the road back to Brecon, Wales. As we were edging, with other festival goers along the country lanes of Pilton, Somerset suddenly we are pulled over at a police roadblock. I didn’t understand. The police made me follow their car to a ‘festival’ makeshift police station and asked us all to vacate the car. They were accusing us of drug dealing. I still didn’t understand until they explained that my car was connected to a tent in which serious drug dealing was going on. I twigged they thought we were the dealers because of the F***ING guy rope! We were at the station for hours and hours while they stripped the car to bits, my daughters (10 and 8 years old) were in tears because they thought their father was going to be taken away which resulted in us all being distressed, as well as hungry and tired. Come early evening they realised they had the wrong people and sent us on our way. I said they managed to ruin a fantastic weekend and now all we wanted was to get home and forget all about it this awful experience. They actually apologised and said inaptly that it was all part of the ‘rich tapestry of life’. The real drug dealers of course, with their fun weekend, handsome profits and convenient tow bar were well on their way home by now!”
Jason Blackwell, 1989
“One of my Glastonbury stories would have to be about a tape we got given once with some dub on it, but we never knew who had recorded it? (It took us about 15 years to eventually find out that it was Rhythm Collison Dub by the Ruts DC V Mad Professor). Anyway we took it with us to Glastonbury 1989 and it captured the atmosphere perfectly for when we were back at camp, at our first proper music festival so to speak, what with a lot of people being unhappy at the time about the criminal justice bill and a feeling of unrest generally in society especially towards the establishment. Everyone was pissed off with the poll tax and the criminal justice bill included a big agenda to stop the raves and free parties etc, they introduced a law that anything over 120 Bpm was classed as threatening to a society in general and obviously the introduction of ecstasy shook things up, 1988/1989 were the end of the 80's and people were fed up of being dictated to. There were battles at Stonehenge they were building new roads and chopping trees down everywhere, crusties/ travellers were the enemy the list goes on, we all just wanted a good time like most generations and to have the music - well that was the best.
As for the festival apart from all the rastas being moved on there were police helicopters flying overhead during most of the festival but all in all we enjoyed the bands, the new friends we'd made and the whole experience, there's nothing quite like it, we were having the time of our lives, biggest downer ever though having to go home, we ended up getting our cars towed away and to make matters worse the ghetto blaster we had with the tape in got nicked!!”
Sophie Tanner, 90s
“Growing up near Glasto, I was lucky enough to be there throughout the pre-digital Britpop era, saw pretty much all my heroes perform live; lusted after Damon Albarn, wept to Radiohead, crowd surfed to Pulp, got stoned to Massive Attack. Indie music was my lifeblood and Glasto was the (albeit crusty) beating heart.”
Adi-Guru Dasa
“I was a London and Amsterdam squatter every year our tribe went to Glastonbury Festival.
One year my friend and I walked all the way along the Ridgeway sleeping out under the stars...all the ancient sites along the way and from Avebury we hitchhiked and walked straight in to Glasto fest site really early and set up a camp in the kings meadow and waited for all the others to arrive.
By ’91 I had left the drug hippy scene and became an ecstatic Hare Krishna monk.
Every year I begged to be allowed to have a break from my temple services and join the Festival team that did Glastonbury.
In the day time we went on singing procession around the site and fed thousands free food by our tent.
At night we chanted from when the last band stopped playing on the main stage til early hours with a tent full of trippers. we had sitar players, dramas and kirtan and lots of incense.
They were the days.
Now Glasto became a bit commercial. In the old days it was wild, every year a vehicle was burned and the travellers and drug dealers scared everyone.”
Mark Sutherland, 1995
“Me at 13, Glastonbury 1995. Jungle Book on in the outside Cinema, end of the film where the girl is tempting Mogly to the village. A guy screams out “don’t do it Mogly, she’ll only fuck you over!”
Jimmy Green, pic by Paul Tyler
“Muddy late 90s. Forget which year, we all piled down in his bosses hired BMW. Had to be dragged out by a tractor. Farmer was making a fiver a pop, had to stop at a garage while my mate jet washed the mud off it. Even tho it was muddy saw Radiohead play OK computer I think, it was either that or the proceeding year, or possibly 2000. Honestly, can’t remember the gigs but it was a mudbath!”
Jaki Miles-Windmill (photo by Chris Yuill)
“A friend (6'6" luckily) came back 2 hours later after leaving for the toilets (the old ones with a piece of metal underneath balanced over a long pit) wearing weird, clean clothes and a haunted expression. Toilet floor had fallen into the pit when mud gave way at the edges. Luckily his head and shoulders remained out of the shit. He'd been thoroughly sanitised in the First Aid tent. Mid 90s.”
Sian Davey, 1995
“My first Glastonbury. I was 24 living in Bristol. I caught the train and hung out with a bunch of people on there, one of them gave me 2 strawberry acid tabs. I think I was fairly green at the time because I didn't know what they were.
Arriving at the festival I was with a crew from Bristol, I didn't know them that well so I was determined to find Paddy. This was pre - mobile phone days so I sign posted religiously the whole site, everywhere. The notes wrote 'meet me here on the hour.' I still have one of those handwritten notes. I walked and walked miles posting these up. It was typically torrential rain and my boots kept being sucked up into the sticky mud - and then I tore the anterior muscle in my shin. It was painful, but love is a determined thing. At 1pm i went to the meeting place the Red Cross Tent notice board not imagining that he would be there. But he was. He was there. I hugged his friend Yvonne who had found my note and Paddy and I went off to the festival. I pulled out the strawberry acid tab and we took them. I remember so clearly I had no idea what I was taking. But what followed was the funniest 24 hours of my life. We didn’t stop laughing. Paddy would say to me don't speak to anyone because it won't sound like you think it will. So we arrived in the cinema field and I asked if there was room for me on the bench and I was told there wasn't one.. and so on. We went to the travellers party at the back of the site and I was enveloped in gooey, warm, soft pink marshmallow. We became the most perfect party companions ever.
Paddy and I separated 4 years later. Two years ago I went to see him in his hospital bed for the last time, he had a brain tumour. He died that week. That muscle injury still hurts like hell at times and I'm always transported back to that exquisite weekend with my first true love.”
Ru Davies, 1995
“I was loitering at school in East Sussex having just finished my last A level exams when Dad called. “So I’ve managed to wangle a couple of tickets for Glasto for you. They’re at Stephen’s farm next to Worthy, so you just need to get yourself there. Thought you could sell one of them to fund the weekend.” It was already 2pm on the Friday, how the hell was I going to get to Pilton? Asked a few pals but most still had exams left or couldn’t be arsed (Mark Aldred). I got zero money to my name, barely a bank account but the shining star that was/ is Charlotte Nettleton loaned me her cash card ... madness. So I was going on a solo mission. Knew a few folks already on site, perhaps I’d bump into them? Easy.
Had to get to Paddington before the last train to Castle Cary or I’d be screwed so rushed back to my room and threw together an essentials bundle of sleeping bag, baccy, bin liners and, for some reason, slippers. That’s it. Sweaty train stress all the way, tube from Victoria to Paddington and get to the platform just as last train pulls away from the station. I’m pelting it down the platform trying to grab a door but alas. Nope.5 proper diamond geezers in their 20s also panting having missed the ride, one turns to me: “oi bruv. You know how to get there?”. Me: “er... prob have to go to Bath and get a cab”. Him: “alright sweet we’re coming with you”.Me: “er.. ok?”Next train leaves in 5 mins, everyone piles to other platform and gets on. As it pulls away, I realise I still have no money, just a bank card. And no ticket. “Don’t worry pal we ain’t got tickets either” Head to smoking carriage and get a table seat. New BFFs then proceed to pull out some scales on the table. And some small baggies. And a large rock which they proceed to chip at with a blade, weigh and bag up. One of them skins up and sprinkles said powder into the joint. He sparks up. On the train.“Inspector!” Comes the cry from the end of the carriage, everything gets packed away and we pile into a toilet. Knock on the door. Bang on the door. The air is filled with acrid coke spliff smoke. We sit it out for 10 mins, until zero oxygen remains. We pile out and rush to the next toilet back from direction the inspector came. After dodging him for an hour it feels the net is closing in when suddenly one of the geezer gang comes back from a reccy: “all the commuters are asleep in first class. Left their tickets on the table.” We get off the next stop and the police are there to meet the train. We show them our valid first class tickets and we’re away.
Apparently money is no issue for my crew and we get a cab for £100 to glasto. “I’ve got to find a farm in the dark for my ticket” gets met with “nah man you can jump the fence with us. Get a pass out tomorrow and sell both your tickets at the gate”.Me: “er.... ok”.We arrive near Worthy Farm in the dark and Barry goes “drop us here, mate. There was a whole here last year I’m sure”. Next we’re scrabbling in the dark at the verge of the rd looking for a gap. Find a gap. We all tumble into a ditch of brambles with a chicken wire fence above us. Climb fence and drop onto flat ground... a moat with a new MASSIVE fence in front us. Wtf. Then we hear an engine revving and before we know it we’re getting chased by a pick up and some pretty tasty security shouting and waving baseball bats for extra vibes.
One of the geez gang gets nabbed and the car stops to collar him. Scratched to shit from the brambles and panting like a mutt the sight of a rope ladder leading up to a carpet draped over the barb wire on top. Someone’s left their gear, praise be. We manage to get over just as the pick up pulls up.
I’m last over and my dealer buddies have already done a runner into the dark. The sea of tents and smokey twinkles extend as far as the eye can see. I wander about a while with my sleeping bag bundle, wondering what made me think there was a cats arse chance of finding a pal amongst the HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS of people. After a couple of hours I find a gap between some tents, stick my bin liners down and get into the sleeping bag. What a shit idea.
I wake up soon after dawn to someone taking a piss by my head. Sit up and look about me. Just tents and randoms. No dosh. No food or water. Balls. Then I see them. My bezzies Tanith Slay and Sadie Cook right there on the path 50 feet away. The hugs, the joy. The absolute WIN!Ended up finding Dave Lewis Lloyd and Jessica Mason-Little too. And I bumped into the geezers again who treated me to some freebie delights. Went and found my free tickets and sold them for a ton. Goldie topped it that year. Immense.On the last night Tan made me leave my Lugz boots outside the tent, so smelly were they. Some bastard nicked them.
I wore my slippers home.”
Victoria Jackson, 1997
“It was an absolute mudfest. I was 18 and it was my first glastonbury with my boyfriend, my older brother (who had been going since the 80s), his wife and a big group of friends and family. I had no idea what to expect as it was my first ever festival. We didn't let the weather put us off (so cold and the rain never stopped) and to this day, its one of the best festival experiences that I've ever had. The pictures in the mud soup were in front of the other stage. I think it was Placebo that were scheduled to play that evening but the mud was that bad that the stage was sinking so there were delays with them coming on stage. We got drunk on tequila while we waited - thats whats in the bottle that I'm holding- and ended up just sliding around in the mud. Everyone around us gave us a really wide berth as you can see in the pictures. Still the best festival ever and can't wait to get back there in 2022!”
Seb Patane, 1997
“You might not believe this but I actually played at Glastonbury once. When I was at St Martin’s I was in a performance art group called ‘The New School of Pretension’, together with Christopher Owen and two more. We made homemade loops of things like Bowie, T Rex, Stereolab and Add N to X and mimed to them pretending to be electro/rock stars. For some reason people liked it and we were asked to play the ‘art’ tent in 1997. It was one of the muddiest years ever, when Radiohead headlined. I was so scared of going on stage that I downed half a bottle of Southern Comfort before so I was trashed and I don’t remember much of the performance, only that there were about 10 people in the audience. It was so grim, wet and depressing that we were almost crying all the time. We were supposed to play 2 nights but the morning after the first one we made a runner, leaving just a note for the organisers instead of our tent in the ‘VIP’ area which simply said ‘sorry’.”
Ellie Fazan, 1997
The first time I went to Glastonbury was in 1997 and I was 15. I didn’t really even know what it was but I’d seen an advert for it in the back of a weekend paper that I used to frantically scour incase any bands I liked, or rather any bands at all, came anywhere near where I lived which was in Devon. Sometimes they did come to Exeter, an hour away, and my poor Dad would drive me there and wait a suitable distance away in the car with a book while I moshed around inside and lurked by stage doors outside.
But an actual festival. This was adventure calling. This was too much to pass up no matter what the challenges. I could feel the butterflies rising. I tore out the page out and showed it to a select gathering of friends in the cloak room at school the next day. It turned out my much cooler friend’s older brother had jumped the fence one year and said it was great. The festival started the day after our final GSCE. It felt like a sign. A symbol of freedom. Music. Boys. Warm beer and weed. The rest of our lives were calling us.
I was so nervous I hardly dare ask my dad. What if he said no? What if he insisted on coming? But to my incredulous surprise, without even blinking, he said yes. To his credit he’s always been the person in my life who packs me off on my adventures. Have a good time, he says. Send a postcard. Nay fuss.
I remember the tickets went on sale at 11am and I’d made posters by the upstairs and downstairs phones, reserving my time slot. I dialled up the number from the ad which was now so tatty from being folded and unfolded in my pencil case and I called and called and called and I couldn’t get through and on the radio it said tickets were selling fast. Eventually I phoned the operator and burst out crying and she patched me through on the next line. I explained very politely to the sales person that I wanted to go with four friends to celebrate finishing our GCSEs and when it came to paying she said cheque or cash on the door? And my dad came on the line and got the details and sent off a cheque and we paid him back waitressing in cafes and the tickets arrived in the post. It was £72 each.
That was one of the last years before the fence and before Kate Moss endorsed the festival with her denim hot pants and Hunter wellies and way before VIP areas and fancy camping and prosecco bars and pampering stations.
We wore knitted flares and walking boots and my dad actually made me take gaiters which I wore under my flares so no one could see them. It poured with rain for the entire weekend, our tent flooded, my flares were sodden, we watched Radiohead and were swept by the crowd quite literally and were thrown in waves of people right at the front, so close I saw a plectrum fly out of the bassist’s hand and be replaced by the stage hand so quickly he didn’t miss a drum beat, ate bad fried food, and awkwardly hung around the fringes of rave tents while older cooler kids danced the night away and I remember thinking, when I’m grown up I want to do what they do. It was only a few years ago when watching Glastonbury sets back on tv that I realised that I’d seen that Radio set. It was the most exciting thing I’d ever seen. Mainly I fell in love with Travis who sang “Why does it always rain on me” to an empty muddy field while we shivered and ate penny sweets.
I also smoked some hash of a beer can and rolled around a in a tent with a boy and even though neither of us took our trousers off, for weeks afterwards I thought I was pregnant. And also my friend told her pen friend, who was friends with my pen friend, and my pen friend who – for some reason remember – was marked by the distinction of having her appendix on the left side, and being in the British Medical Journal – was so appalled she never ever wrote to me again.
That was 24 years ago. I still have my t-shirt from that year. This year would be the festival’s 51th birthday. I hoped so much it would go ahead. Not just because of Glastonbury, but because of what it represents. Only much like everything else this year, it’s been cancelled, and it makes me fear for another lost year and all the people and bands and musicians and events and stage hands who won’t come back from this. And all the teenage girls who won’t get to see them.
And over the last three decades Glastonbury has become a cultural institution for my family. We've made friends, met loves, got lost, been found, basked in sunshine, sheltered from rain. And discovered oh so much music. It’s here I first discovered Christine and the Queens, completely by accident as I wove from one unknown place to another, French duo Justice, on a chilled Sunday that turned into a marathon. It’s not just about music, either. Everywhere you look there’s something new to uncover. There are circus tents; healing fields for a revitalising sauna or massage; lectures and talks, creative workshops, and even cinema; interactive sculptures growing into mini villages with secret pop up events; and even mouth-wateringly good food. On one adventure I ended up sitting behind a waterfall talking to a stranger. In another in a hole in the side of a hill. On yet another down a rabbit hole. And then there’s the magic of the stone circle. The magic of it all.
A few years ago, without a ticket and heartbroken, me and my friend broke in in a frankly ridiculous extended 24 hour blag. Our quest gained so much momentum that Hugh Jackman, who was staying at nearby Babbington House, offered to smuggle us in in his helicopter. Unfortunately we didn’t hear about his offer until after the weekend, by which time we’d used as much luck, charm and cash as we could muster to dazzle the locals and squeeze past security. To celebrate victory, instead of driving home on Monday, we spent the day lazing by the pool of Babbington House on giant beds and knocking back bloody marys. How my 15-year-old-self would hate me.
Stevie Holmes, 1999
“This is in the dance tent 1999 - I'm the one in the bright orange sarong with the belly out (very nineties!). This photo came about as I always carried an immense polaroid camera around with me at Glasto, and someone spotted it and all wanted in on a mega 'selfie' before selfies existed as we know them!
Danny Rhodes, 2000
"2000 was the year of my first Glastonbury. This picture was taken on the Saturday evening. I can’t remember who was playing on the Pyramid Stage at that moment but we went to watch Moby on the Other Stage, and so did everybody else! I lifted my brother onto my shoulders so he could take a photograph. I remember him turning around and saying something like ‘Fucking Hell, the crowd goes on for miles’. The sun was setting. Moby was playing Porcelain. Magic was in the air. It’s a moment that will live with me forever"
Flick Carter, 2000
“Me waiting for David Bowie. He was amazing. My boyfriend, now husband got dragged along - he didn’t know who he was at the Tim. We were 19 - he wished he’d paid more attention now. I feel so lucky to have been ther, even if it was from the very top of the hill. The crowd was massive, this was before the days of the steel fence. I can remember getting my ticket from Our Price in the galleries, Bristol two days before we went. None of your internet frenzy.. well there was no internet!”
Jacqueline Azura Clayton, 2000
“Glastonbury 2000 (age 9). Bowie played on my mums 40th birthday which couldn’t have been more perfect! Me and brother got interviewed by top of the pops Saturday but sadly we never made it on TV but we were super excited. Looking back we may not have made the best music choices but going as a kid was such a special experience.”
Louise Carron Harris, 2000
“It was a whim of an idea! We clambered into my Vauxhall nova, with my now husband and our best friends and hit the motorway on the Friday night - 10 hours of traffic queue later we dumped my car in a nearby field and 3 hours after that with bags and pillows and a cheap £20 Argos tent we found ourselves hiding behind a bush waiting for the security car to pass before we climbed through a fence
It was the biggest adventure of my life, the adrenaline was pumping through my veins It hit me hard that we had actually made it inside ...we were greeted with a wild red sky . I knew I was home!
It was 2000 and about 350,000 other people also had the same idea ... it was so packed with people if you let go of your friends hand you’d lose them for days and we didn’t have phones then, not ones we could use!
The highlight of the weekend was watching 5 police men trying to get a man high on LSD who thought he was a cat out of a tree by ‘shushing and saying “here kitty kitty come down kitty kitty”
Amy, 2000
“I have just had a message from Ranen, pointing out that, at about 6pm on June 22nd 2000, he picked me up from work after answering my plea for a lift share to Glastonbury.
TWENTY YEARS AGO.
The only question I could think to ask him, when he asked if there was anything I wanted to know about him was "Are you an axe murderer?" I promised him sandwiches, which he has still never received. We got stuck in traffic and ended up pitching tents at 4am, then hung out together for the rest of the festival.
He was so hooked on the festival that he set up a walkabout act that we did together for years. Without him, I'd never have dared to buy the Housebox and it would never have made it back on to the road.
Mates for life thanks to that lift-share. I must make him some sandwiches.”
Stevie Holmes, 2002
“The 'other stage' which I think was originally the NME stage the first time I saw them - this is Orbital playing one of their epic headline sets. This time I hadn't eaten a load of 'truffles' bought for a quid a pop out of a tray from a hippy lady strolling round the green fields, so I actually managed to take a few photos and not hallucinate I was waving a milk churn in the air. Result! Both the 1994 and 2002 sets were awesome. Orbital really can't be beaten.”
Nick Weetch, 2005
“One of my favourite times at Glastonbury was also one of the most dramatic. In 2005 we arrived on Thursday in glorious sunshine. Having set up and met friends at the usual Thursday night cider bus, we headed up the hill to enjoy the build up to the weekend at the stone circle. As dawn broke we could see the storm clouds rolling in and retreated to our tent. The storm was huge and the ground vibrated with each clap of thunder. When we emerged there was a river running where there had been a line of tents. There was no power on site and a bar had been struck by lightning. At the bottom of the field the old railway track had formed a dam and there were many submerged tents. But this photo sums up people’s attitude - just get on with it!
The rest of the weekend was incredible. Everyone got really stuck in and wasn’t going to let the conditions get them down. There was also countless acts of kindness and charity along with the humour that defines the festival. I can’t wait to be back.”
Barry Lewis, 2005
“I started photographing Glastonbury in June 2004, lugging a huge white tent onto a muddy field… and set up a portable portrait studio in Lost Vagueness in the middle of the “Naughty Corner”. For the next three years I had my studio in the middle of Glastonbury’s vaudeville home of late-night excess, in which muddy festival-goers played roulette, donned ball gowns to dance the night away, while burlesque acrobats swung from chandeliers.
The strangest of the many surreal encounters in my photo studio was one impossible to make up!
A group of 3 figures arrived in the studio, 2 men covered in feathers and a woman, her face hidden in a huge red hooded cloak. As I was about to shoot the photo the woman threw back the cloak revealing her naked body. Now I don’t know who was the most surprised but at the moment of reveal I saw her face for the first time …. “Miriam!” I shouted as I recognised my kids maths teacher! “I am not Miriam any more”, she replied, “My name is now Star…. unconditional love, along with the belief that life’s painful lessons can simply become joy... It wasn’t easy for me to arrive naked at Glastonbury, especially as I had no ticket only my hand made pass but I danced straight through the
gate and I haven’t stopped since!
A week later I showed the photos to my son “There is someone you might recognise” I told him. Blank. I pointed out his teacher, Miriam. He couldn’t speak, blushed and ran out of the room.”
Hannah Solle, 2007
“As a local my pa used to work on the worthy farm radio so from 3 months old I spent every year frolicking in the fields of laughter and dance. I had my first warning of drugs here, I saw my Dad at his happiest here, I fell for my first love here, I had my first heartbreak here, I watched and met famous people galore here.
My ultimate favourite memory was, I believe, in 2007 when I was 15. In the middle of the day I stumbled across the roots tent, which had a secret act about to appear. As I wiggled myself through a small crowd the Marley brothers were up on stage prepping.. A huge, tall rasta man guided me to the front, handed me a huge flag on a pole and said ‘I got ya, now soak it up kid’. And so I was there alone, with no woman no cry being sung to me by the Marleys themselves, holding my hand and everyone else with their lighters up. Wow, wow. I cry to this day hearing that song. The fields of Avalon and stone circle will always have a huge place in my heart”
Tony Hill, 2009
“One of the strangest and most memorable 'where was you when' moments of my life - even by Glastonbury standards. It's near midnight, I’m lost in the out of this world areas of Glasto: Arcadia, Trash City and Shangri-la; it’s like being in a Terry Gillingham dream mixed with Alice in Wonderland and Blade Runner with a great soundtrack. A magical realism novel, and at this very strange moment in my life - just as I’m in a tunnel of curios looking into League Of Gentlemen-esque mock shop front with the sign, Goat Juice and Dumplings, lit with green neon light showing its wares - rat, bats, stuffed millipede - when I receive a text: 'News from the outside world, Michael Jackson has died.' Am I hallucinating? I asked the people at the side of me if it is true? A conversation ensues about the death of the king of pop weirdness; people's faces green lit, strange animals peering through the glass behind them from the shop front of Goat Juice and Dumplings.”
Neil Thomas Douglas, 2010
“Things I remember! I went to get Jen a cider and never returned. She found me several hours later in the kids field watching a dude inside a giant balloon bounce to Mambo number 5. At the end the balloon popped and he was dressed as Elvis.
I met this old man selling cider. He said he was the oldest cider maker in the UK. It was £2 a pint so I had 3. Turns out it was also the strongest cider in the UK. I went missing once again and was found in a dance field with a new found love of french techno.”
Beth Rowley, 2011
“This was our first sunrise at the stone circle together. I was performing with my band and I invited him as a plus one… we’d not long been together. This night seemed to go on forever. I remember this moment at the stone circle so clearly, it felt like we were in a dream. I wanted to carry on forever and I knew I would never forget how perfect it was. He looked so beautiful. New love! No where on earth like it and no one else like my baby.”
Rob Barker, 2013
“The Rolling Stones was really memorable. Not just for the fact they were finally performing at Glasto, but I needed to piss so badly, and it was impossible to get through the crowd, Hannah had to watch as I released my bladder into a paper cup under my coat. Sorry, Hannah. Probably ruined the magic of the gig somewhat.”
Heidi Wesson, 2013
“In June 2013 I was 9 months pregnant but the baby was not due until July. My other babies had been born two weeks late so I was not expecting anything to happen just yet. I had been to watch the Rolling Stones on the viewing platform but we left after a few songs (controversial but we were bored!) we went to see Chase and Status instead. I felt a few twinges then but thought it was just her enjoying the music as she often did. Her dad, Sean, had arrived on site that day and gone off with one of our friends to Naughty Corner. I sat in crew camp with a few friends and we rang them to come back. They thought I was joking and came running into the caravan saying he hadn't done a risk assessment that it couldn't happen! Tracy's daughter, Lindsey, called it in on the radio they asked if I was breathing, she said “very heavily she's in labour!!” they couldn't find us so Stu ran to find them. A little festival ambulance van took us to Ivy Mead and we were stopped at every gate. Lindsey ran across site and somehow managed to get to the hospital tent before us and apparently face planted on her way she told me later... no midwife was available and someone told Tracy I had been taken in. She called Lindsey to see if I was alright and appeared in her panda outfit (Glasto-style!). She said very calmly “let's get her out!”.... Emelia (or Acadia as the festival family call her) was born at 3.10am on 30 June, weighing a healthy 6lb 6oz. Tracy, still dressed as a Panda, was crying her eyes out and covered in blood. Her & Sean cut the umbilical cord.”
Emma James, 2015
“That’s me in the background with the rainbow hat. I think the girl was actually a woman knelt down on her knee. He was so gracious and stopped to speak with several of us along the route. He held my hand just before this shot and I wished him a happy birthday.”
Ali Bird, 2016
“2016 - gosh that was a hard year. Going to the Jo Cox Memorial and listening to Billy Bragg sing so sweetly on the Thursday, then waking up to hear the Brexit vote result reverberating across the site with tent after tent just going "fuuuuuuuuck". That was HARD. This picture was taken while we were waiting for ELO to start on Sunday afternoon.”
Emma Stoner, 2017
“This photo was taken at the Leftfield stage in 2017. My daughter Lila & I had just been watching Jeremy Corbyn address the crowd. It was electric and I’m sure it was a contrast to the depressing Brexit vote hitting Glastonbury the year before. There were positive vibes in the air that year. Jeremy was inspirational and offered hope at a time when politics had taken a sharp swerve to the right. Despite losing the election, he had done well and there was a momentum building up behind him. I was a firm ‘Corbynista’ and loved seeing him at Glastonbury. Jeremy had actually given Lila a little wave earlier on in the day when we saw him having lunch at the Greenpeace field!
Lila was only 2 at the time so I didn’t want to expose her to really loud music. This was the main gig we went to that year. The rest of the time was spent in the green-field’s & kids field, exploring small bands & art workshops. We still sometimes sing “Oh Jeremy Corbyn” together! ”
Gaia & Calum, 2017
“When we met the celebrants they said they had organised a Piper for us, which was completely unexpected but amazing. As we walked up to the field we heard the sound of bagpipes playing and saw the incredible archway that had been crafted from wood with deer antlers atop it.The Piper, Fergus, explained to us he had felt compelled to make an archway, knowing it had to be made but not knowing what it was for. He did not know we would be having a hand fasting there. It was also very fitting he played the bagpipes as my surname is Campbell and my family can be traced back to the Campbells of Argyll. Again, nobody knew this. It was magical.
Quite a crowd had gathered for the ceremony which we hadn't expected and it was quite nerve wracking being in front of so many people, but we just focused on each other and we soon forgot about everybody watching .The ceremony itself was more than we could ever have hoped for and we are so grateful to Sandie and Andy for all the hard work they put in to it for us, two complete strangers.
At the end, we jumped over the broomstick we had made into our new lives together. Sandie and Andy then presented is with a hand written card from Michael Eavis wishing us the best in our marriage and expressing his happiness that we chose to be handfasted at his festival. We knew they were local but we didn't know how local! It was an amazing moment.”
Christen Williams, 2019
“This glasto felt like such a big deal to me cause it was my last festival with my OG boobs before I had a mastectomy. I would never have worn a bikini with such a cleave before, but I was loud and proud waltzing round Glasto. Loved it. Special memories.”
Sarah Adams, 2019
“On the Sunday we awoke like another normal Glastonbury morning (I’ve been to the festival 9 times now & joe has been 3 times) we had a lazy get up after a boozy day on Saturday topped off by seeing The Killers! The boys went to the pyramid stage early & the girls stayed to finish off getting ready! We went to catch years & years but not to our knowledge David Attenborough was appearing just before Kylie so the pyramid stage was packed.. apparently Joe was getting anxious that I wasn’t going to get there, but we were able to push through towards the end of the years & years set. He didn’t seem nervous at all, so I had no idea what was to come.
Just as Kylie started Joe pointed to the sky which made me look up & there was the banner. My friend then had to get me to turn around to find joe on one knee holding the very ring he bought at the festival the Thursday before, & of course I said YES!”
Inga, 2019
“The Beat Hotel at Glastonbury left some very special memories for me from the first time I went in 2017, and knowing that 2019 was their last year - I spent a large proportion of my time dancing there. It’s one of those places at Glastonbury where once you’re inside, you completely lose track of time. The strangers you end up dancing with are on a different energy level. My Kimono Partner - the girl I never even asked the name of, was full of that incredible energy. I swapped my kimono with her and the next thing we knew - we have started a clothes swapping chain with other dancers too!”
Emily Dommett, 2020
“I didn’t have tickets for Glastonbury 2020, in fact I hadn’t been since I was 5 months pregnant in 2013 and thought it would be a good idea to litter pick in the hope Daft Punk would play (they didn’t!) but when the sad news came in that Glastonbury was going to have to be postponed it seemed to mobilise a whole movement ‘Glasthomebury’. Even the BBC was in on it and announced they would be showing festival footage all weekend, I was going all in!
I was obviously ‘home-schooling’ by this point so we started creating decorations, flags and bunting were essential and I even fashioned a mini ‘pyramid stage’ covered in foil and just big enough to fit over a tv! I thought of everything, we had a kids field, complete with a bell tent, circus skills, face painting and glitter station. A chill out area with bean bags. A late-night disco with glitterball and blacklights. The kids slept in a ‘tent’ we strung up in their bedroom. My husband even built a stone circle at the very end of our garden for us to take a bimble to on the Thursday evening. The weekend ended up being a bit damp, but that didn’t put us off, in fact it added to the atmosphere, we just put up a gazebo! We drank cider for breakfast, watched amazing footage from previous years, listened to Emily & Michael Eavis’ podcast ‘Glastonbury 50’ (very good by the way) and I put together a mega festival combo dinner, including serving it in a cardboard take away box, should have charged my family £15 each for it really!
My favourite part though was the excuse to get dresses up, I love ALL things festival, but for me the absolute best thing is the freedom people get to just go crazy with their outfits!
I don’t know when I’ll get a chance to go to the real festival again, getting tickets has become incredibly tricky, but I do know that I’ll continue Glasthomebury – hopefully we’ll be able to invite friends in the future, as for all the glitter, music, food, sights and sounds, lets be honest, it’s the friends, both old and new, that really make a festival the special magical place we all love to escape too.”
