The Horror Of A British Summer


The rain. The trenches. The infections. The endless misery of waiting between burst of deafening noise – oddly not Ypres in the first Word War but the horror that is Glastonbury. It’s not exactly ‘Hair’, is it? Festivals are a right of passage you undertake when you under 25 (if you’re older, you really shouldn’t be there.)

Imagine how much fun all this would be if you were somewhere nice, with guaranteed sunshine. But no, you’re in some farmer’s muddy field where the sun is regarded as suspiciously as a five-legged foal. And of course we knew it would be lousy weather because it’s also Wimbledon, the annual rolling-out and tolling-back of pitch covers that says ‘Hold this stupid event in a dry country’.

Every year I get offered a gig at a festival, which means a day-long trudge to the country and an overnight stay in a swamp for an hour-long slot doing a reading to nice, exhausted people who just want to die in peace.

And so the same pathetic craving for light and warmth continues as we start to wind our way toward the eight months of rain that signify autumn and winter. English people are famous for their politeness. Imagine how much more polite and sweet we’d be if we were warm and dry and shone upon.

4 comments on “The Horror Of A British Summer”

  1. Mike Cane says:

    >>>doing a reading to nice, exhausted people who just want to die in peace.


  2. Helen Martin says:

    Glastonbury – midsummer, I take it. Just read up on that – good old John the Baptist & all. There are supposed to be large bonfires which you can jump over. That would dry and warm you, wouldn’t it?

  3. Helen Martin says:

    Hmm, read a mystery set there. It rained and blew in that as I remember. Obviously the Cornwall trip was an oddity and we are now back in the Chris Fowler/rain occurance.

  4. Stephen says:

    I went to Glastonbury last year, glorious sunshine, good food (it’s not all burgers) and amazing performances from Scissor Sisters, Stevie Wonder, Muse. However, I was also there in 2005 when we had apocalyptic deluges, food poisoning and Coldplay. Much rather watch it on TV though (even if it means vacuous presenters spouting inane links…)

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