This year, I didn't try to get tickets for Glastonbury. In fact, I didn't even register to be able to buy tickets. As it has gotten closer, I have been wondering more and more if I will be jealous of all those thousands of people there.
My decision not to go was nothing to do with it raining last year - it's rained every year I've been there, I have waterproofs - it's not sooo awful. My decision was based largely on the terrible line-up predictiong (JZ - are you joking - I thought it was another of those cons - like the time when people said Celine Dion was headlining - and I was gullible enough to believe and get right miffed off before someone pointed out that I should probably just think about it for a second longer and accept that I am rather gullible) and that last year was poor in comparison to previous years.
They upped the number of tickets sold by 20 thousand. There were buggies everywhere and people with floppy hair yah-yahing and wondering why their three-wheeler buggies wouldn't shovel through the mud, despite the off-road option they paid an extra 6 squillion pounds for.
Also, it's my friend's wedding on the Friday - but that's a minor point...
Anyway - where am I going with this? Ah yes, I am getting to the point that despite having made the decision not to go to Glastonbury this year... I am after all.
A friend won 10 free VIP passes and like Cinderella, I shall go to the ball (where ball = something a lot less glamorous, a bit more uncomfortable and a lot more muddy). And I only found out on Thursday. What excitement.
Therefore I spent a large chunk of this weekend looking for wellies in which I wouldn't get stuck (last year my wellies were the cause of many a tantrum and have since been summarily dismissed from my wardrobe, my sight and existance entirely).
With work being particularly busy this week, that probably means I will be taking a hiatus from blog posting for a week or so. But expect tales of muddiness, stinking loos and other such horror when I return.
Whoop whoop.
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