It wasn’t the summer of love per
se. It was summer and I was in
love.
Glastonbury!
A music festival.
A four-day weekend – travel on
Friday, return on Monday. Work on Tuesday.
Such a long journey straight
across England, it seemed to take all day although the men said it would be
four hours, they didn’t count on breaks, traffic jams and kids needing breaks.
Image taken from Google images
I didn’t really follow protests,
demonstrations, politics etc but in my limited knowledge CND, Campaign for
Nuclear Disarmament, was a pretty frightening aspect of life in the early
1980’s.
We didn’t have much money but
with another couple (and their two young kids, one a babe-in-arms) we hired a
camper van and drove to Glastonbury in Somerset. The two men took turns in driving and us
girls and the kids were in the back on hard bench seats, no seat belts, thrown
from side to side, especially when the friend took over the driving. I’d never realised before that some people
weren’t very good drivers – my chap was an excellent driver but Paul, well that
was another story.
As we approached the farm,
stopped by police checks, my heart was in my throat as I knew there were
illegal substances aboard – not for me – honest, well maybe I would indulge
being away from home but I didn’t really like it. Luckily, I think having the kids with us
helped us get through that bit and we followed the directions.
We parked on the slope of a hill. A good vantage point we thought, we could see
the stage with its CND banner and logo over it and congratulated ourselves we
had parked in a pretty good spot.
So naïve.
As the campground filled up,
colourful tents were pitched, painted vans of all sorts and sizes parked
haphazardly in front of us, to the side of us and behind us. It was just a sea of chaos and cacophony. Places were marked around your site with
flags and banners and anything else you didn’t mind if it was ‘borrowed’ while
you were out of the van/tent or just asleep.
Image taken from Google images
It was certainly an experience
and quite eye-opening for an innocent 26-year-old, sheltered girl originally
from a small village who moved to a small town.
Facilities were basic (toilets –
we won’t go there and I only went when desperate, very desperate). Water was available from various standpipes;
you could buy firewood and make your camp fire.
Luckily the van had cooking facilities but we often found we ate at the
vendors selling all sorts of foods. You
could get burgers, hot dogs or more lifestyle foods, vegetarian foods, lentils,
vegetable curries etc. - vegans hadn’t quite found the market they have these
days.
We were very lucky and the
weather was hot in the day, a tad chillier in the evening and night time.
The music was LOUD.
The bands were good and CND were
out in full force.
It seemed to me that a lot of
people, although probably agreeing with the cause, were mainly there to enjoy
the music and to get drunk or stoned and have a thoroughly good time.
The smells were different, ranging
from weed, hashish, alcohol and certainly some stuff I wasn’t sure about. Having a wander around, people were enjoying
bongs, hookahs and various other substances.
Wood smoke from people’s fires
wreathed through the still air, the stars were out and everybody was calm and
mellow.
Wandering down towards the
pyramid stage, the musky smell of incense and unwashed bodies, as you tried to
shoulder past to get nearer the music, luckily my chap was tall and grabbing my
hand powered through until we got prime position – well he did but little ol’
me, a foot shorter, struggled to see. He
offered to put me on his shoulders but I didn’t think that would be very
comfortable for either of us.
Returning to the van as the sun
began to set, seeing the Tor in the distance, wondering about days of yore,
watching my footsteps careful not to tread on prone bodies, flowing skirts or
various other items littering the ground, my inaudible sigh of relief as we
found our temporary home gave me some comfort.
To be totally honest, I couldn’t
wait to be home again and in my own bed!
Such a lack of adventure, a creature who loved her home comforts and
although I enjoyed my time away there are certain basic amenities, I found I
really didn’t want to do without!
Looking back on those days life
was free and easy even though there were protests and demonstrations and people
with the courage of their convictions trying to ban attacks.
Now I go to bed at night, sorry
for the plight of war-torn people, displaced people, brave people fighting back
against an oppressor.
I wonder if my grandsons and
granddaughters actually think about it at all.
Several of them of are of an age
that - should the worst happen - they would be asked or forced to make sure we
keep our freedom by freeing others whose freedom is being taken away.
It is frightening times we live
in.
Pandemic over – possibly…….
War – who knows ………..
Nuclear attack – who knows ….
Forty odd years later, people are
still protesting, people are still fighting for their lives, people are still
scared of the thought of war or even a nuclear attack.
Tag line:
Throwback but nothing changes –
hard rain is still falling 40+ years later.
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