Because I'm exhausted from trudging around in mud for two weekends running, and because I know most of you don't want to know about it, I'll keep my notes on attending Glastonbury to a minimum.
So here it is, the 3 day festival summarized in 3 words... not worth it.
Tuesday, 26 June 2007
Thursday, 21 June 2007
Monday, 4 June 2007
The sweet taste of free-dom
I've been a bit lax in writing of late (it's the fault of RTW - if you have to ask, you wouldn't understand). So no doubt, you're just gagging to find out the latest miraculous and fantabulous things that have been happening. Yes, I realise I am writing assuming that there's a reader, which I very much doubt, but Simo responded to something I posted a while back, so I live in hope...
Due to the universal and unconquerable force of poverty, my adventures have been reduced to things that come for free. So I've been missing lunch a lot. Surprisingly, London's not too bad when it comes to free stuff, provided you scour the street press for the tiny notices that point you to it. More surprisingly, the free stuff turns out to be pretty good! My taste of free-dom came in the form of a free gig to celebrate a trendy music magazine that managed to stay in print for a year...
It's been so long that Corey Haim should have released a single entitled "Whatever happened to the Thrills?"... in fact, he should sack his agent for not jumping on that opportunity as soon as it appeared. But it's too late for Corey now (no, he's not dead. I checked.), because the Thrills are back. Courtesy of the one year old magazine, and the trendiest indie-music venue that you could shake a skinny white man in even skinnier jeans at, I got to see them play a short but sweet set in Camden. Despite all the fashionable poseurs in the afore-mentioned skinny jeans, strange hats, or bracers, everyone was there to enjoy the music, and enjoy it we did. To the point of dancing on the chairs and bar (see the blurry photo above - that's pretty much what my vision was like). The Thrills belted out the faves that everyone wanted to hear, as well as a few others and promptly called it a night. The crowd loved it, sang along and danced and generally had a great time.
OK GO apparently did a DJ spot in the upstairs bar, but when I checked it out there weren't any treadmills set up, so I didn't bother sticking around for it.
Sunday, 3 June 2007
Blessed are the cheese-makers
In case you missed it in that joke story that they run in the last minute of the news - you know the bit, when the presenters smile and laugh inanely at each other and pretend they can stand each other's presence - the world's premier cheese related sporting contest took place the other weekend...
Ever since I first heard about this, it has been number one on my list of dairy product races to attend. Surprisingly, I wasn't the only one. I thought there would be a small crowd of drunken travellers trying to compete on the day, and that I'd have no problem joining in. I had no idea how popular idio-tourism has become! (In case you haven't heard of the new phenomenon that is idio-tourism - and I'd be surprised if you had, since I just made it up - it's the term to cover all those weird events that people decide to go to after a few too many drinks, like the running of the bulls... or university exams.)
To begin with a bus driver lied to us and told us the event was cancelled. After spending an hour in Gloucester, and faced with the prospect of another 7 hours to spend there, we decided to get on the bus and go to Coopers Hill anyway. This was followed by a 40 minute trek up hill and down dale, across muddy fields, over barbed wire fences, and around herds of cows. By the time we got to the bit of the hill where the race was held, the place was packed and there was no chance of fighting my way to the top for the privilege of tumbling all the way back down. To be honest, seeing the hill 'in person', I was kind of glad. I think the Aussies we saw on the train had the right idea - get drunk beforehand (hmm... perhaps that's another rule of idio-tourism, not only should it be conceived in drunkenness, but should be performed drunk as well).
Long story short - ok, not short, just not as long as it could have been - I didn't get to run, but I did get to witness an event that reminds you that there must be a god, and that he's a mean bastard with a cruel sense of humour. In the picture above, you may notice that the cheese has gone a little off course, and is heading straight at the one person not watching the cheese - the cameraman. There's also an 'after' shot, with the cameraman doubled over in pain. Truly a great moment, and made all the greater for sharing it with several hundred strangers in the middle of nowhere on a muddy hillside... there's something magical about the sound of all those people wincing in unison.
Speaking of wincing, I can't finish this post without rolling out a few cheesy puns (that's just to warm up)... The event was fantastic, and Coopers Hill is impressive... but I was really disappointed that I didn't get to rennet! (*Boom-Tish*)
Roll on!
Ever since I first heard about this, it has been number one on my list of dairy product races to attend. Surprisingly, I wasn't the only one. I thought there would be a small crowd of drunken travellers trying to compete on the day, and that I'd have no problem joining in. I had no idea how popular idio-tourism has become! (In case you haven't heard of the new phenomenon that is idio-tourism - and I'd be surprised if you had, since I just made it up - it's the term to cover all those weird events that people decide to go to after a few too many drinks, like the running of the bulls... or university exams.)
To begin with a bus driver lied to us and told us the event was cancelled. After spending an hour in Gloucester, and faced with the prospect of another 7 hours to spend there, we decided to get on the bus and go to Coopers Hill anyway. This was followed by a 40 minute trek up hill and down dale, across muddy fields, over barbed wire fences, and around herds of cows. By the time we got to the bit of the hill where the race was held, the place was packed and there was no chance of fighting my way to the top for the privilege of tumbling all the way back down. To be honest, seeing the hill 'in person', I was kind of glad. I think the Aussies we saw on the train had the right idea - get drunk beforehand (hmm... perhaps that's another rule of idio-tourism, not only should it be conceived in drunkenness, but should be performed drunk as well).
Long story short - ok, not short, just not as long as it could have been - I didn't get to run, but I did get to witness an event that reminds you that there must be a god, and that he's a mean bastard with a cruel sense of humour. In the picture above, you may notice that the cheese has gone a little off course, and is heading straight at the one person not watching the cheese - the cameraman. There's also an 'after' shot, with the cameraman doubled over in pain. Truly a great moment, and made all the greater for sharing it with several hundred strangers in the middle of nowhere on a muddy hillside... there's something magical about the sound of all those people wincing in unison.
Speaking of wincing, I can't finish this post without rolling out a few cheesy puns (that's just to warm up)... The event was fantastic, and Coopers Hill is impressive... but I was really disappointed that I didn't get to rennet! (*Boom-Tish*)
Roll on!
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