Tuesday, December 26, 2006

A Brush with the Fuzz - an occasional series - No. 3

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.


  1. Congratulations, Tom, exactly the kind of sordid, repulsive and repugnant comment we need to remove all of this tinsel that has been infesting everywhere lately.

  2. I can speak to this topic. In or around 1983, a friend and I got pulled over by the police and he could smell the sweet scent of a certain green plant. He asked us if we were smoking marijuana. So, I said, yes sir and I showed him this tiny wooden container that held a pipe in one spring operated compartment and the grass in another compartment (it is called a one-hitter.)

    He examined it carefully, opened up the side that held the grass, emptied it and gave it back to me. He let us go.

    Those were to the good old days.

  3. Heehee...good story. The closest I got to the law was when I got pulled over for an expired tag. And unpaid fines. The officer tried to hit on me and let me go. Then he followed me home. Now he calls every so often. I don't answer...but one of these days I'll tell my husband to.

  4. The closest I have ever got to drugs, breaking the law or Glastonbury is reading this post.

    Have a very happy holiday, Tom

    Lots of love and all that xxx

  5. Cherrypie, your comment could have been one I'd have written.

    Tommy dear, I do hope you've outgrown that sort of thing.

    And why did I get a card from Vicus and not one from you?

  6. Tom, in case you're not up to speed (that's a kind of pun) cricket has started again over at my place. You're doing OK.

  7. Oh, and Pammy will be joining you for the final day's play.

  8. bring it on! sounds like my misspent youth.
    of course, I NEVER GOT CAUGHT.

  9. What a bad bad boy you were - it makes me wish I'd been braver! I shall add stealing a car to my list of things to do before I die - trouble is Himself is in the employ of her maj's constabulary so I'd have to get a really good disguise!
    Have a very happy new year Tom! XX

  10. Didn't we bump into each other outside the Release Tent?


    I can't wait for it to warm up! I am going riding as soon as it does. I love riding horses! Magnificent creatures they are!


  12. So Murph, great to meet up again at last. That Caroline Coon was hot stuff - worth getting busted just to have her trying to help you out of a jam.

    Ziggi, married to the fuzz. Has he got any dope for sale - always worth an ask in the 60s.

    FN, congrats on not getting caught - always a little bit of a bummer spending time down the cop shop.

    Dave, no, I am certainly not up to speed. Might need it to stay awake in your sermon though (only a joke). I will try to focus a bit more on the cricket, didn't realise we were going on tour.

    Pammy babe, get used to it, cos when we're together it's gonna be wild.

    Sweet Cherry, if only you had met a dirty old hippy who could have seduced you with drugs and tempted you to 'turn on, tune in and drop out'. The immortal words of advice from Timothy Leary - one of my heroes of the time.

    Sweet Awaiting, stay on the straight and narrow babe. It sounds real dodgy round your neck of the woods. Makes our 60s adventures seem tame in the extreme.

    Kindness, good job we didn't meet up cos you know I would have fallen in love with you big time. I had what might be called a bit of a weakness for pretty dope smoking gals.

    Vicus my old friend, long may the memories of our mis-spent youth continue to amuse us. For a second there it looked like we were onto something.

  13. I feel the same about Becka, circa 1975. A dancer, too. Dammit.

  14. Even earlier, at the Reading Festival, circa 1970. Walking from the station to the site, we were stopped by two uniformed ossifers. They had a good look through our bags, too. Examined my camera and spare lenses. Even picked up my film cans and shook them. Fortunately, they made that reassuring rattling noise that tells a policeman that yes, there actually IS a roll of 35mm film in the can. We were allowed to continue.

    Equally fortunately, I'd decided to come over all cautious and hidden the dope INSIDE a fake 35mm roll of film. Clever buggers, us budding photographers...

  15. Nice work Mark. It was so easy in those days though - the cops were so naive. I remember one day being searched and I had the dope in my hand between my fingers.
    I guess most people's lives have moments where potential partners go their separate ways - powerful memories that live a long time.

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