I've wanted to go to Glastonbury for five years. I could barely bring myself to watch highlights of it on TV because it made me unbearably jealous of anyone I saw there. 2013 was the first year when I didn't have exams or other plans in June, so I decided to try and get tickets. After two hours of my friend and I constantly refreshing a page the morning tickets went on a sale, she managed to get us them.
My dad and my brother also managed to get tickets; this was their third year going. They knew which camping spot they wanted, when to set off, and Dad even designed his own t-shirt for the festival to sell to friends and family.
In other words: I knew I was in good hands making my way down there with these two. We drove all night to Glastonbury, arrived at the site at one in the morning, and queued till we were allowed in seven.
Unintentionally, this meant I got another item ticked off my list: I stayed up all night and watched the sunrise. When I wrote that one I thought it would happen when deadline panic struck, I would stress and stay up all night drinking enough Red Bull to give me wings the size of a sodding albatross.
Instead I got to watch the sunrise at Glastonbury Festival, in a chair lent to me by a lovely, ever so slightly drunk, Scottish man who had also given me shortbread and a lemon and gin jelly. It was very pleasant, made more so by the cheers ringing throughout the crowd as the sun rose further up the hill; showing that we had made it through the night and the cold, dew soaked hours would be soon forgotten. I had never experienced such a surreal start to a festival, and this was just the beginning.
I was completely blown away by Glastonbury
You know those rare, Goldilocks's moments when you find yourself thinking how things are just right? Glastonbury was five days of that.
Clapping along with the band, noticing my hands in the crowd and thinking we were all creating this together, the blue sky, the warmth of the sun, a fire breathing spider, wellies being left in the tent, home made raspberry lemonade, having a massage, watching fireworks, tapas, pesto pizza, weaving ribbons, seeing a Chinese dragon, a dancing robot, circus acts, Arctic Monkeys, The Rolling Stones, Mumford and Sons and being able to wander between stages that nearly completely matched my iTunes.
I was spoilt for choice and absorbed so much music; I couldn't bring myself to care that my nose had turned bright red despite factor 50, or that my feet hurt. It was utter perfection and I struggled to find the words at how much sheer joy there was. Not just for me, but for everyone who attended.
There was one night when went to the top of the hill, near the ribbon tower and looked out at the entire festival. It looked like a city when it was lit up at night. We had just been exploring the tipi village, and everyone was so mellow. Especially the guy who appeared to have passed out in a tipi tent tunnel. I think we managed to see most of the festival, but I know there must have been so hidden gems that we didn't find. You don't realise how massive it is, how much there is, till you're there and experience it yourself.