Monthly Archives: June 2017


The annual iPlayer catch-up has begun. After post-festival beer in the hole in our neighbourhood (in which we cannot help but fall). 

We spotted heavily pixelated images of ourselves. 

I’m not much more than a hat in That one. 

And a hat and a belly in that one. 

Yes, that’s me with the phone. 


My second in command wanted to see Emile Sande. I didn’t, so I was allowed to shop for a blanket for my beloved. 

I did need beer to help me shop and, after a successful purchase, I failed to locate the designated ice cream van at the Other stage. I’m currently at West Holts. It looks good in the evening. 

But I shouldn’t be here. I have new instructions to arrive swiftly at the bar by the Pyramid stage. 

Apparently, I want to see Ed Sheeran. 


Sunday morning

I’m sitting in the garden this fine Sunday morning. The garden outside the old Glastonbury showers, that is; waiting for my second in command. 

The queue was very short this morning, a last day of festival thing I guess. 

Our itinerary for the day is planned, although there’re the usual feelings associated with the end of something good. 

Speaking of something good, the Foo Fighters were pretty astounding last night. 

Me, Suzy and Jake

My second in command and I are spending quality time with my friend Jake at the Pyramid stage. 

And the Other stage.

And, lastly, the Park stage. 


Thursday involved delicious Hare Krishna curry (which was free, but we bought stuff), Lloyd Grossman, the Smyths and Elle and the Pocket Belles.

And a new world record and some other stuff. The Pyramid stage looks good to go.