One experience that stands out
was at Glastonbury in about 1990. It was still a proper festival back then as opposed to the Reading-style 3-day gig it is today. A massive travellers' field with infinitely better entertainment and a much more 'real festival' vibe than in the main fields...

It was about half five in the morning and the mighty Hawkwind took to the stage, playing their demented drug-rock to precisely their target audience - a motley bunch of rough-looking vagabonds if ever there was one. And me and my mates.

A couple of songs in and my pal Biddy, a normally quiet and unassuming fellow, suddenly basically attacked the massive crusty in front of us, grabbing him round the neck. Utter terror (amplified by a hefty dose of the old Laughing Sam's Dice) kicked in. What the fuck was he doing?

Then his 'victim' simply stepped aside and dear old Biddy crashed into the dirt. He'd only fainted and grabbed at the nearest thing on his way down, which happened to be this huge dude. Relief turned to annoyance at having shitted us up so much...which then turned to laughter as he announced he was going back to our tent for a lie down, and set off in 100% the wrong direction.

Another classic was the Magic Mushroom Festival in Wales. Chased by farmers, an American Werewolf style pub visit and constant freezing rain throughout. The site had a lightshow - but no music. It was truly surreal. I stayed alive for 3 days solely on brandy coffee and mushrooms, and our mate fell down a ravine.


Ahhh...the good old days....
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Wed 10 Jun 2009, 16:40, Reply)