I woke up this morning feeling really annoyed with my second in command. We’d been on a coach to Glastonbury with Karl and Michelle, when the bus stopped for a break at Pilton. We’d taken our bags off the coach and were sitting in the sunshine, when my second in command discocered that one of her bags was missing. The smaller one, with her iPad and hair straighteners, not her rucksack.
While I began a search for the bag, my beloved declared that she needed to have her nails done and, so, set off to seek a nail shop (is that what they’re called?). Michelle went with her.
While they were gone, the bus left. On their return, I’d still not found the missing bag, but we decided on a cab to the festival site. When one arrived, we found that we wouldn’t all fit in with our bags and camping gear. So I offered to stay behind and make my own way.
After waiting at a bus stop for a while, with no luck, I started walking. I was nearing the site when my second in command to ask where I was. I advised I was close, but that she should keep the call short since her phone backup batteries (we take several) were in the lost bag.
Within a few minutes I’d reached a point where I could view the festival site. The view was remarkably similar to my first ever sight of the festival, a long time ago. The scale was breathtaking.
I started walking to the entry gate, somehow bypassing the winding barriers which control the stream of festival goers.
And, then the alarm woke me up. I’m now on my way to work and still don’t feel quite right.