Saturday Special Glastonbury

She asked me how my Glastonbury was, I said it was fine, I didn’t want to tell her the truth. But the truth was it wasn’t fine, the truth is I am just not cut out for festivals. It’s not the sleeping in tents or the lack of showers that bothers me, although I am getting a bit old for that, it’s not the thousands of weekend hippies taking a break from their day jobs. No the real problem for me is my tiny bladder.

While my friends come back from the festival with stories of how great the Stones were or how the Arctic Monkeys smashed it, I have great stories of how the Stones sounded muffled from inside a portaloo or how I lost my friends because I needed a slash half way through ‘Bet that she looks good on the dance floor’ only to find them again exactly at the point my bladder decided it needed to go again.

The problem is timing you see, you can’t leave it till the last minute cos then you need to push your way through the crowds, get in line and wait; leave it to the last minute before starting your trek and you are asking for trouble. I think they should have a special disabled portaloo especially for the small-bladdered so we don’t have to queue, we could carry a medical certificate to prove we were Captain Slack Bladder approved.   

And before you say anything I’ve tried not drinking, but then I am the only sober person in a crowd of 180,000, it’s no fun not being pissed or stoned when every one else is. So I think next year I’ll just watch it on TV, I can sleep in my own bed, shower when I want and have the comfort of my own bathroom.