Glade aka Swamp
It took six and a half hours to drive from London to Berkshire. As y'all probably know Berkshire was hit very hard in the floods.
As we approached where Glade was being held the road conditions started to deteriorate. The entrance was through a village called Thatcham which was submerged in water, precisely how deep we were unsure.
However as we foolhardily drove forth, the van started filling up with water, exhaust engulfed the cabin and we stalled, it became clear that the answer was......too deep. Our three hitch-hikers helped us push it half a mile back out to dry land.
On site the Bangface tent was heaving gently. In general the music was far too quiet and people seemed to, rather than dance, pull one boot from the mud, and then the other, loosely in time with the beats.
The mud was unbelievable. People moan about Glastonbury, but really this was on a wholly different, almost biblical level.
Grass and ecstacy freely available. Neither of which I touch, as my friends will vouch.
Bumped into Mark "Strange Attractor" Pilkington, escorting the mighty Erik Davis, who had been booked to give a talk at the West Coast Neuro-Age Tent. More on this in the coming weeks.
The glamourous backstage environment! Because Sacha was DJ-ing at "The Pussy Parlure", I essentially caddy-come-gogo-dancer, we had backstage passes. Walked past Steve Hillage and Miquette Giraudy at this very spot. Flashos's set was the best of the whole festival. Seriously. It was the only moment I saw people dance rather than frug.
As we left I took a minute to poke around, trying to locate The Black Dog's dressing Room. They were playing before Derrick May on (refers to appallingly designed pamphlet) the "Vapour" stage. Found Martin in a Portacabin, one end of which seemed to be sinking deep into the mud.