OAP Glasto

Nearly everyone I know seems to be going to Glastonbury this year.  The extraordinary thing about that statement is that nearly everyone I know is over fifty. Well over, many of them.

What’s going on down at the farm? Last time I went I was in my early twenties and even then I was older than most of the other festival-goers. The little I remember about the occasion (due to the mists of time…I was never into imbibing strange chemical substances) includes a man wearing a live chicken on his head extolling the virtues of vegetarianism, an awful lot of lentils and the sight of the gentleman who is now my accountant walking round completely naked.

One could camp almost right up to the main stage in those days. Bath Arts Workshop was doing early morning catering and I recall serving in-tent breakfast to a bloke with no legs who couldn’t make it to our mobile tea trolley. We stood out as very smart in our formal waiters’ tail suits. You could hardly tell we had slept in our outfits in the back of a van!

We flogged about fifty gallons of vegetable stew, but the huge copper full of simmering meaty goodness representing our profit remained worryingly unsold. That is, until the veggie option ran out, and realising we were the cheapest sustenance on site, people gave up their principles and wolfed that too.

Now I see that not only are the most famous pensioners in the world topping the bill, but horror of horrors, Bruce Forsyth is going to be helicoptered in. Hold onto that hairpiece, Brucie, those rotors produce quite a downdraught!

Could this be behind the mass exodus of the old and frail from our city this week, clutching their moth-eaten tents rescued from deep in cupboards under the stairs? Can I detect a whiff of past its sell by date patchouli lingering over Milsom Street? Imagine the aftermath, with the fields littered with Zimmer frames discarded by those who have found a new lease of life after a quick puff on a spliff (don’t remember it tasting that horrible Dorothy) and  couple of choruses of Little Red Rooster.

What next? A branch of M&S on site? Don’t laugh; I heard it was on the cards. These are not just any lentils….

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