It's time once more for the odyssey that is Glastonbury Festival.
The weather forecast has, predictably, fluctuated wildly over the past week or so. At one point it actually seemed like our prayers had been answered and we were going to, shock horror, get a sunny and warm festival. Now however, it seems fairly certain that we're going to get at least some rain (or torrential downpours, depending on which forecast you listen to) and, with the rain, comes the mud.
Ah, the mud. The mud that, two years ago, nearly made me leave the festival early. Note the nearly. I didn't. I couldn't. But the mud sure does make things difficult. Endless slogging between stages, concentrating so hard on not falling over that you almost forget to have a good time. Those fools who think everyone wants to mud wrestle with them. Well I don't and I will chin anyone who tries to make me. So there. I'd like to remain as dry and clean as is possible whilst spending five days in what can only be described as a 1200 acre latrine.
But I think I've made my point. Mud = bad. So pray for me, won't you?
See you on the other side... xx
