Saturday of Glastonbury started horrendously. My 18 year old son had gone off by himself the night before to see The Blockheads. He had too much to drink and some low life stole his bag which contained all his money, his phone and more importantly his insulin to control his diabetes. His mother found him at 4.30am in a Medical Tent wired up to an I.V. as his blood sugar levels had gone through the roof. Thankfully he had managed to ask for help from a steward who acted promptly. Trips throughout the day to the Lost Property building revealed that nothing had been handed in. What kind of bastard would not hand in insulin even if they nicked all the money and the phone. My one wish is that this piece of scum dies a slow and painful death. Anyway getting that out of the way, the first band I went to see was The Broken Family Band. On at 11.00am it was a bit early bearing in mind the state I was in the night before (and yes I do see the irony of like father like son). As usual they put on a cracking show with a mix of old and new material. Next up was The Low Anthem who I though was excellent and certainly deserve the attention they are getting at the moment. Sadly both acts did not draw the crowd that their talent deserved, although I heard Rolf Harris drew a large crowd, Fuck Me!
Bombay Bicycle Club was the next turn I saw, never heard anything by them before, but they played a fairly decent set of Alternative/Indie Rock and seemed popular with the Middle Class young kids. Down with the kids that’s what I was. A lot of my time was then taken having to go to the Medical Centre to pick up some supplies for him. Now for those who have never been to Glastonbury this involves a hike to the highest point of the site. At one point I thought that by the time we got there that it would be me who would need medical attention. Puffing and gasping for air I could only just manage to smoke 3 cigarettes during the walk. Supplied up we decided to sit away from the site as it would have meant walking through the crowd of Dizzee Rascal and listening to the shit he was belting out. Next band I saw was Crosby, Stills and Nash. When compared to Fleet Foxes the previous day they showed those upstarts just how to do it. An ageing audience, the young had gone off to see some here today and gone tomorrow band. Escaping the horror of what would have been Kasabian who were due on after CS&N I headed to catch Lonnie Liston Smith and get a bit of funk down myself, before moving onto to the fantastic Tindersticks. They never fail to deliver and they did not let me down. I could listen to Stuart Staples just singing the alphabet. Staggered off into the night after them to be pushed and barged by youngsters who had drunk 5 Strawberry Ciders and had lost all control and were all following each other like lemmings to an area where I believe the terminology they use is 'to have a banging night'. I obviously met up with my friends for a night of deep intellectual discussion.

To be continued...