Purists would argue that going to Glastonbury is all about getting back to basics – and I don’t mean just surviving on pear cider and manky burgers. Think smelly hippies rolling around in mud and ‘finding themselves’ to a soundtrack of Lebanese otter music. Not me. I was going to make this one my most comfortable festival yet.
‘Only bring what you can afford to lose’ says the advice on the Glasto website. ‘Right’, I thought to myself, ‘best stock up on a stash of gadgets to take with me then’. While I didn’t manage to get my muddy hands on all the kit I talked about in episode 71 of the podcast I still managed to stuff my bag full of some really cool gear.
Obviously key to festival survival is a decent tent, so I made my home for the weekend in a Blacks Lupus, a veritable palace complete with its own internal LED lighting. I was expecting the lights to be about as effective as hanging a torch from the roof with a spare guy rope, but ended up being surprised by the amount of light which flooded the tent. It was also brilliantly waterproof – one feature that was easy to test this weekend under the leaky Somerset skies.
Come Friday morning the heavens had well and truly opened and it was raining cats and Iggy Pops, so as I stood in front of the Pyramid Stage watching The Earlies I whipped out my Olympus 770SW to test its waterproofing credentials. As you can see from the pics on this page, it took some nice clear photos, even when the rain was pouring. I snapped away like a muddy paparazzo over the four days and only when I returned home on Monday morning did the battery finally die – a sterling effort.
After a hard day in my wellies grooving with some indie superstars I soothed my aching bones on a supremely comfortable AeroBed Active, an inflatable double mattress that blows up in about a minute – a welcome change from a wafer thin roll mat on the hard Worthy farm ground that’s for sure.
Festival going is hard work on a gadget though, especially phones, and my Moto KRZR was all but dead by the time the Arctic Monkeys had taken the Pyramid Stage and launched into a mass sing-along of When The Sun Goes Down. I needed some juice.
Unfortunately the Orange peeps I met weren’t quite spreading the Glasto love and feared that if they lent me one of their wind-powered chargers it could end up in the hands of a nefarious prankster. So I fell back on the slightly less environmentally friendly method of Motorola’s P790 portable charger to top up my mobile. Just a couple of hours plugged into the mini-USB port and it was done, full to the brim and ready to see me through the last two days of muddy mayhem.