annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

tl;dr

Thurs 27th June, still Glasto reporting.

Thursday evening, sat at a crossroads at the top of the pyramid field watching the sunset, writing in my notebook.

The festival is full now, thousands of people, not all of them wasted, but really intense so I'm acclimatising myself to the crowd before we have crowd and music.

I walked right through the middle earlier to get my dinner at my favourite stall - La Grande Bouffe - tartiflette and Toulouse sausages:

really tasty but also pushing me to my limit to walk through the mass of people, quite a long way, then queue for probably 10 minutes, then sit and eat on a bench in the thick of the crowd.

I felt panic rising again and again but I just breathed through it and remembered that I don't want to spend the rest of my life stuck in that house with Bloke - I want to LIVE. So here I am, living.

We did the first workshop, me, and my pal R's grandson and his girlfriend, both in their early 20s, good kids, the pair of them. It was fucking hectic. Too many people in the marquee in blazing heat - I lost it quite badly for a bit - dizzy and whirly and not knowing what the fuck I was meant to be doing [see, I'm glad to have this written down - I would have forgotten this] with three kids in front of me, all at different stages of the process, one with a very vacant face who needed a lot of help,  glue and sewing needles and paper all over the place and gusts of wind blowing it all around, unable to sit down as we're on the side of a hill and my chair tipped too far backwards. Sit sideways on, YD advised for tomorrow. Good advice.  I didn't get a single photo as it was so hectic but maybe tomorrow.  We did, here it is:

YD has taken all the little ones from our group, ages between 20 months and five years, off on adventures somewhere. She loves it and they love her - it beats sitting around watching the others get wasted.

I can see bats - they flap their wings faster than birds.

It's too hot for me - much too fucking hot. They're giving away free sunscreen but only a squirt at a time not a whole tube each.

One of the good things about being old is not giving a toss. People walking past are looking at me, sat here in my chair, writing in my notebook but I don't care.

Sunset hasn't amounted to much so back to camp I reckon. 9997 steps today so far - it's not really resting, is it?

Friday morning

I woke full of anxiety and sadness - I want to call the care home but can't halt the break in my voice... I did it anyway after writing that - she's up, in her chair in the lounge, sleeping while having her nails done. She's asleep so much of the time.

Our camp is split - me and YD on the eastern side of the field, up against the trees and hedge which gives us morning shade. The others are on the west, morning sun, afternoon shade. Lisa's boy Oscar, 18, out all night, just crashed into the tent we have for Son and fell asleep before getting his feet into the tent: There's a samba band just started playing on the other side of the hedge, not 20 yards away but he hasn't stirred.

Now I'm off to check out Bjorn Again, the Abba tribute band opening the festival proper on the main stage...

And that was as far as I got at the festival.  When I got back I went to the care home but ED was fast asleep and there was no waking her so I jotted down some more notes.

Back from Glasto

Good things:

• After the last workshop, just chilling. I didn't realise how tense the anticipation of the next one made me - too hectic. Was advised by the woman who leads the 'make and do' gang to ask for the same helpers again next year - four of us should make it more relaxed.


• The compost toilets were great - they literally didn't smell at all even in that heat. You chuck a cup of sawdust over a shit, which covers the shit and the smell and eventually will rot down into good compost. I wouldn't have believed it was possible - everyone goes on about the toilets at Glasto but they were OK this year - the ones in the kids' field at least


• Kylie was very moving - not sure why - perhaps because ED used to love her when she was little. Especially For You made me cry


• I do love lying in my bed in my tent listening to the music. I gave up on The Killers too soon, knackered, so went back to camp and into bed and they were playing just over the way, with the wind blowing the sound towards me and they really got going - I later discovered they brought on amazing guests like Pet Shop Boys and Johnny Marr - really rocking so I did bed-dancing, quite happy in my bed...


• Getting to spend time with D's youngest son, his girlfriend and their baby. Being still able to make a baby smile is good.


• sitting around the fire at night...

• Feeling lonely so much of the time. The others are all wreck-heads apart from YD and Son and as we were sharing a tent, YD didn't want to be with me all the time, but too often I found myself alone, sat at the camp or off alone in search of food. I wished I had someone to share it with and couldn't think of anyone at all who would come to the festival and be my buddy. This really hurt, that it's come to this. Then, coming home was somehow worse - Bloke drives me mad and it's even lonelier being with him

So that was Glasto. Since being back I've been totally knackered. I've had to deal with a load of shit about ED's funding, which I can't even go into. I finally saw her awake and took her for a little walk, but pushing the wheelchair was too much really so we only went to the coffee bar round the corner and sat outside for a while. I don't feel too bad now, late Sunday night, but I have been overwhelmed with sorrow about her life since coming home. And mine. Someone said MS didn't just steal her life, but mine as well and they were not wrong.

12:33 a.m. - 08.07.19

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

previous - next