Sadly, this was our last Glastonbury. But, perhaps not mine.
And the traditional end to the evening at the John Peel stage … these little town blues ….
And, like (but not like) two years ago, the evening ended in the John Peel stage.
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.
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.