This week should have been the 50th anniversary of the Glastonbury Festival, but instead, everyone is locked down thanks to Covid-19 and watching what the BBC are showing (which is all the big headliners so mainly Coldplay or Adele) or scouring YouTube for footage which isn’t just focused around the main stage and Babylon. Instead of 200,000 or so people on site there’s the Eavis family obviously, the few people who live on the farm all year long, and a small BBC crew so the site looks like this.
It’s a very melancholy sight, A few trucks, a few vans, a tent, and the bare skeleton of the Pyramid Stage.
What the weekend has shown is how much a part of my, and thousands of other people’s lives, the festival is. After all I’ve nearly been going for 30 years, so more than half my life has involved Glastonbury in some shape or form, and I’ve made sacrifices over the years to go there. Even now I’m disabled and not especially well I want nothing more than to be in a field with mates watching bands, or soaking it all up at the cider bus or as it is Sunday afternoon, I’d probably be watching the act on the ‘Legends’ slot before getting ready for the final night and the grim return to reality on Monday.
Had things not went the way it did regarding the stroke and cancer over the last few years, my plan was to move to the general area. I’d already done some checking things out in Glastonbury regarding work and somewhere to live, but that all went south thanks to illness, then Brexit made it harder and now Covid makes it even more unlikely so I’m here in Glasgow wishing souls existed so I could sell it to whatever Devil is out there so I can solve all problems overnight and ensure Glastonbury returns next year.
Because here’s the thing; I’m not sure we’ll be able to go back to what it was like before the virus, at least without accepting we have to live with an increased death rate. There’s a wee voice at the back of my head saying 2021 won’t be able to happen as remember, we’re only seven months into this pandemic and we’re finding out Covid as we’re going along. We might have drugs that help but the chances of a safe, working vaccine in 12 months looks unlikely and although I remain optimistic, there’s a realism which is beginning to sink in.
I hope I’m wrong because I want nothing more than to spend a week on Worthy Farm be it by Faustian deal or otherwise. I hope this time next year I’m working out how to make the final day last as long as possible and that maybe, perhaps someday everything awful is gone and I might even go back to my plan of spending the rest of my life in the area.
Til then it’s the BBC and YouTube. Hopefully though I’ll see some of you on a farm in Somerset next year…