Today is usually the day for festival-goers: After a year of waiting, Glastonbury finally arrives.
However, with the Eavis family taking a well-earned year off, no trips to Worthy Farm are taking place.
How are we getting over this? By thinking of everything we’d usually be doing on day one of the festival...
1. First of all, the alarm goes off insanely early, leaving you asking if this will be worth it.
2. Like, seriously early. It’s only just light out and you were up until midnight pouring vodka into plastic bottles.
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3. Next up is checking everything is packed. Battery pack? Waterproof jacket? Wellies?
4. Do you really need 28 pots of glitter? The answer is, obviously, yes.
5. You’d Gazing forlornly at the jumpers you’re leaving home to make room for more booze. The first sacrifice of festival season has been made.
6. Ok, it’s time to leave the house.
7. Taking a good long look at the television, fridge-freezer and sofas, you’d realise this is the last you’ll see of civilization for a very long time.
8. If you’re a first-timer you get the added bonus of wondering how it’s possible that Glastonbury is six days long. How does anyone survive the weekend???
9. All will soon become clear, don’t worry. (The answer is lots of booze and free food from the Hare Krishnas.)
10. Veterans ponder how it’s possible the past 12 months has gone so quick. The mud on the wellies is barely dry from last year but it’s already time to return to the farm.
11. Seriously, it’s time to go now. Down that coffee, say goodbye to the cat and hoist the backpack on and get to the train/coach station.
12. For the first time that day, you’d think: “Did I pack this bag with clothes and ciders or gigantic lumps of rock??”
13. This thought will cross your mind at least 56 more times in the next four hours.
14. Finally being in the queue for your chosen method of transport means it’s time to realise you definitely forgot to pack something vitally important. Like a sleeping bag.
15. It also means it might be time for the first drink of the day. Hey, we are not here to judge. Just stay hydrated too, yeah?
16. Of course, everything mentioned so far can be avoided… by driving to Worthy Farm in the middle of the night and sleeping in your car. *gulp*
17. If you find a friend who will take the wheel for you, nothing you do in life can ever repay them for the favour. Seriously.
18. Or you could be one of the super smart people who takes a campervan.
19. But you, yes you in the train queue, are stuck just telling yourself (again) that you’ll definitely be smarter another year.
20. But anyway, you’re finally, properly en route and it’s time for a service station stopover for the coach ticket-holders among you.
21. Burger King/Greggs/your last proper meal of the week = done.
22. At least one person won’t make it back before the driver departs exactly 19 minutes and 59 seconds after parking up. (Seriously, we have seen them leave people behind - National Express are merciless)
23. If you’re on the train, there’s no service station for you, which means it’s time to tuck into the supplies that are supposed to last all weekend. Whoops.
24. And then get the shuttle bus from Castle Cary, it’ll all be worth it, we promise.
25. Finally you’re arriving and the site looks more beautiful than ever (even if it’s chucking it down).
26. There’s just one huge security queue and a half-hour walk between you and the campsite now. At this point, you feel unstoppable.
27. Two hours later: You’re still in the queue and, it turns out, were very much stoppable.
28. Even if it’s sunny, there will already be mud everywhere. It’s like they ship it in.
29. And someone would take an unfortunate early tumble.
30. Inside, it’s time to find a camping spot. You give up on Pennard Hill and resolve to arrive super early next time.
31. Putting the tents up can only mean one thing; the weather will take a turn and result in either a. the hottest hour of the day or b. the wettest.
32. By now, you already feel like you’ve been awake for days but you wisely decide to put the effort in and put that tent porch up anyway.
33. It gets better from here, we promise.
34. How? Crack. Open. That. Fruit. Cider.
35. Tents up, it’s time to assemble the whole group, who are scattered across the entire site.
36. And go to use the toilets, which aren’t as terrible as you thought they’d be.
37. You meet up with that one friend who made it through security in “oh, you know… around ten minutes”. IT HAS TO BE WITCHCRAFT, DAMNIT.
38. That first walk around the site renews your faith in the world (and your abilities). Isn’t it pretty?
39. What have they put on top of the Other Stage this year? Has the John Peel Tent moved?
40. And then when you round the corner, there it is: The Pyramid Stage. There is a no greater sight.
41. The backpack marks on your shoulders are starting to wear off, today is a good day after all.
42. Resolving to have an early night, you head to the Cider Bus for a pint of Somerset’s finest.
43. Five hours later: You’re still at the Cider Bus.
44. With darkness falling on day one - which feels like it’s taken an eternity - you head over to the fireworks, congratulating yourself on making it through.
45. Oh, remember how you promised yourself an early night? Cancel that.
46. You’re off to the NYC Downlow/Rumshack/The Beat Hotel [delete as appropriate or do a bar crawl round them all, it’s your choice].
47. Shuffling over to the Naughty Corner, you’d realise, with equal amounts of excitement and dread, that you still have five nightsto go.