You remember that big yellow thing in the sky that used to appear every day between May and September? Well it made an appearance today so I was able to leave the confines of the van once again and head into Glastonbury to pay a return visit to the Abbey. I had an ulterior motive this time as I had a teaspoon of the Smallest Ninja’s ashes I intended on scattering between the Abbey and the Tor. So there’s now a what I think is a sycamore tree, a lavender bed and a wee patch of grass much improved by the addition of a bit of Chloe. I think I preferred the Abbey when we last visited here just after Crapmas 2 years ago. It was a bright, clear freezing cold day and not many visitors. Today I had to contend with an annoying foreigner who kept getting into shot whenever I tried to take a photo. He seemed to think he was David Bailey and god knows who his Po faced girlfriend thought she was. I took refuge in the Mocha Berry Cafe (I can highly recommend their flapjacks) to do some people watching. The town was awash with old hippies – men intent on hanging onto their sparse, long hair and wearing the same clothes they probably wore to Woodstock; and women in flowing tie dye skirts swanning around like a 1970’s version of Stevie Nicks. Doesn’t quite cut in when you have extra padding and grey hair though. I then did something I never do – I accepted a lift from a stranger. Well there were about 9 of them split between 2 cars and they wanted to visit the Tor so I figured I was ok. All those ‘Charlie says’ adverts of my childhood obviously fell on deaf ears. The climb up to the Tor was a killer this time around, gawd knows why as I’ve done enough walking this week to get used to it. I deposited the contents of my tiny Ziploc bag (must’ve looked like a junkie) and left.
I’ve made several observations this week. *1. Hippy surf dudes in tents make crap neighbours. Mine were miserable and I gave up saying ‘Hi’ in passing. If the guy wasn’t such a prolific breeder – 4 high-pitched screaming brats – them I’m sure he’d have rolled up in an old VW and not some bit of Halford’s canvas and a clapped out Volvo, so if he has van envy maybe he should’ve kept it in his pants and stayed celibate. *2. Glastonbury is where Hippies come to die/fade away. There’s hope for us all.