I’m Not At Glastonbury

I decided not to go. That’s still probably the right decision, but I would like to be there now. For five days, you get to like in a ’scrumpied’ man’s idea of a perfect world. Music, love, idealism, air, mud, music, cider, sunshine, music and mud.

I raise a metaphorical paper cup of hot spiced Burrow Hill cider, with a shot of cider brandy, to those of you inhabiting the hallowed fields. Have the time of your lives.