This post, from a year ago today, popped up this morning in the ever-reliable Timehop. I wasn’t sure about sharing it again, as I tend to dig further back into my archives, but I thought on balance that newer readers might appreciate seeing it (he said, hopefully).
As I said in the original piece, I’m spared the disappointment of televised Glastonbury this year, but there seem to be plenty of opportunities to be let down: Sky Arts appears to be on a one-channel mission to broadcast every festival there is! We’ve already had the Isle of Wight, next up Download. At least this year I have the World Cup, and the almost unheard of phenomenon of Germany being knocked out before England. As many said yesterday: do the Germans have a word for ‘schadenfreude?’
I hope you enjoy this little reminder of my thoughts on ageing, musical taste, television presenters who act like children, and why I think open air music isn’t for me.
It is an obvious truth that none of us has ever been older than we are today. But do we always feel our age? Over recent months I’ve been ill a fair bit, and have been feeling way short of my best, but that had never made me feel old. But, last Friday, I did. The reason for that is shown in this post from my Instagram that evening:
For anyone who doesn’t know of it, Glastonbury is the biggest music festival in the UK. It began in 1970, when it was more of a hippy trip than a fully blown extravaganza, but has grown to the point where it sells out 200,000 tickets at around £200 each, within hours, and without having announced any of the acts who will be playing. I guess the punters want to be there so much that they’re happy to take the risk that…
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