First, I just want to set the record straight on something that has been bugging me for a few years. The first Glastonbury festival was not in 1971. It was in 1970. It was also at Michael Eavis's farm in Pilton but somehow the whole event has been swept under the carpet in festival folklore.
My friend Jo had gone a couple of days before with a large quantity of dope. Me and another friend Desmond were in Aylesbury on the friday night without any dope at all, and we so so wanted to get to the festival. It was late and we were walking back from the pub to Des's house. On the forecourt of this garage was an old mini van - I walked up to it and opened the door, and unbelievably the keys were in the ignition. We jumped in and I started the engine and away we went.
After sometime Des climbed in the back to have a sleep and I just carried on driving towards my goal. I was driving through Bath and feeling pretty pleased at the progress we had made so far. About two in the morning disaster struck - we got pulled over by the cops. I slid the window open (remember those windows) and Mr Plod asked me all sorts of questions - where I was going, how long I had owned the vehicle, my name and address - I answered the whole lot, lying through my teeth to every one - came up with a brilliant false name and address in Dunstable without so much as a hesitation.
All the time this was going on Des was hidden in the back under a blanket - I really didn't want them to find him - he was the most disreputable looking character and for sure his appearance would have guaranteed a drug search. Yet again the gods were with me and Plod carried on his way. I drove on a few miles, woke Des up and decided we needed to abandon the mini and get lost pretty quickly ourselves. We got to Shepton Mallet, found a car park, dumped the van and ran. Looking back in hindsight I have to say we panicked unnecessarily there - the chances of that cop checking to see if I'd been telling the truth were pretty slim really.
So we got to the festival and found Jo and this time it was a disaster - the dope was duff.
Again just for the record, the stage was a load of boards on bales of straw. Topping the bill were Quintescence - just one of the many fantastic bands around at the time. Absolutely fucking brilliant.
I spent the weekend with a beautiful girl called Mony who I had met a few months before down in St Ives. At the time she was with another guy, so I was pretty chuffed to find her on her own at Glastonbury. You know those split seconds in life when it could go either way - guess they're every moment if you think about it - but that moment I said goodbye to Mony, can't believe I did that, even to this day.
Countdown to the royal whatever, part 2.
13 hours ago