Return to Glastonbury 1997

What seems like a long time now back in 2013I wrote a long piece about my time at Glastonbury 1997. Well, there’s always room for more as some videos have cropped up on YouTube of the BBC’s coverage, which was their first year after picking up after Channel 4 who pissed off Michael Eavis who I seem to remember thought were not taking the festival seriously.

 

The thing about 1997 it was the start of the festival forming into what we know it as today so it was slowly becoming more corporate, and the rumours of Richard Branson buying Eavis out to run it post 2000 hung around like a bad smell. However for now it was safe with Michael and Jean Eavis running it. I have to say at this point that for the first 30 years, Jean Eavis was the heart of the festival as knowing that she’d turn a blind eye to collapsing fences or fence jumpers as she wanted the inner city kids to be there to supplement the student kids from wealthier backgrounds.

 

However, the mud which descended upon that year put off the gentrification of Glastonbury did sort the men from the boys. By Thursday afternoon it was horrendous, and to this day I still tell people of the sleet which fell that Thursday afternoon or watching people in tears looking at whatever bit of art which was falling apart or standing there wondering where their tent went. Sadly the conditions meant thieving was rife, so tents were robbed (as I mention we suffered from that) or stolen completely.

On the Friday though it did slowly improve. An early slot for Echo and the Bunnymen saw us sit on what grass there was in front of the main stage, but the Other Stage was a mess with the stage sinking into the quagmire which meant missing Kenickie, but this meant more time to drink. One of the things of this year was although by the Friday afternoon it wasn’t freezing, but it wasn’t hot either so it meant your beers were cold.

 

Thing is because of the mud everyone’s thighs were like coiled steel by the Saturday afternoon so we were all bouncing along like wired kangaroos through the mud.

 

Looking back at all these videos just reminds me of how bloody good this year was, and that how through adversity, tens of thousands of us went ‘fuck it’ to make that year a special year. Of course, the TV footage sold it to tens of thousands of people who were normally outwith what was still countercultural, and in years to come this would change the festival to an establishment event.

But even now it is firmly part of the UK’s establishment there’s a part of it which retains the soul of years like 1997.  There’s still people there who are going not because it’s part of the ticksheet of things to do before university and a nice comfy job, and it’s because we can in our own wee ways recapture the great years like 1997.

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