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Last Day
This page is provided only for information, it does not apply to the 2002 festival.
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Onwards I go, easy on that left leg now. Up to the Green Futures Field. I sit and listen to a chap from speaker's corner preaching to us that we should all go home tomorrow and take the rest of our lives off work. 'Phone in Well', he rants, 'Tell your boss that it's a lovely day, the birds are singing, that you feel great and you're never coming in again'.
When challenged about how we are to fund the rest of our existence he recommends that we take up kiting (no, not flying the bloody things; writing them out fraudulently). When it is pointed out that his benefit payments are coming from our pockets he replies 'Thank you very much'. That's OK mate, you're welcome.
'Any questions?' he offers. Innocently, I ask: Can I really save money by switching my Gas supplier?
Oh dear, he's not very impressed with that one. I'll get me coat.
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On my way back to the office I am nearly run over by a mean looking (and sounding) Dodge Challenger in the backstage area with a small nightclub soundsystem in the boot jacked up by hydraulic rams. Very KLF...
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No Time for that now though as David Bowie is about to headline the Pyramid Stage and we're off there to see the Duke whip up the hordes. This should be jolly. When we arrive it's absolutely rammed with young and old. People are jostling for space on top of burger vans and market stalls. That is, like, soo dangerous. Despite Bowie's tendency to not play his older material too much at this stage in career and concentrate on the new stuff we're in for a treat tonight as classics such as 'Heroes', 'Under Pressure', even T-Rex's 'All The Young Dudes' all get a good airing with 'Let's Dance' getting the final encore. Classic stuff.
As the set finishes we wander the site one last time, in that strange happy/sad confused state. I really don't want to go home. Maybe I should just jack it all in and be a traveller. I'd be a good crusty, I reckon. I haven't washed my hair or had a shave all week so I'm sure I look the part although I can't be certain as I haven't seen a mirror in that time either. Actually, no I don't think I could trade the Audi for a truck.
I've had the most fantastic Glastonbury ever. Even if I have been hobbling around like Tiny Tim for most of it. God Bless Us, Everyone. See you next year...
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Stalker will now lie on his sofa for a fortnight getting down to that traditional post-Glastonbury pastime of manufacturing excess saliva.
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