Glastonbury is not just a festival. It’s a town in its own right. In fact, the locals (who funnily enough actually moved here from London 20 years ago) will happily tell you in their annual moan that it Glastonbury Festival is ACTUALLY Pilton Pop Festival – Pilton being a small village 5 miles east of the town.
However, you can’t deny the festival vibe here in the town. Every day consists of fancy dress, listening to a pretentious Muso at one of the local drinking spots and consuming as much weed until your heart is content. Anything goes here and there is a popular saying that “It’s normal for Glastonbury”.
In fact there is a complete lack of boundaries here, so please don’t expect any shops on the high street to open during any reliable trading hours and don’t expect the police to be of any use.
Many who move to live here talk of having a ‘Glastonbury Experience’. A supposed dark-night-of-the-soul and a call to deep soul healing.
You’ll certainly find yourself talking to the divine when you find yourself asking “Jesus Christ, what have I done?” when the illusion of everything that seemed nice when you were a visitor shows its ugly side.
Clique after clique after clique. People like to talk of a ‘Community’ in Glastonbury, but that’s only accessible if you’re well-off and can afford to shop in Earthfare (which used to be a lovely Woolworth’s) and do some of the weekly classes on offer.
Also, the deep soul healing mentioned earlier is again only available to the middle classes who can afford to throw money away to have their DNA to be reprogrammed by channelled aliens.
There are however plenty of armchair psychiatrists in the town who are happy to ask how you’re processing certain things and then tell you that you are projecting when you don’t agree with their divine wisdom.
If none of that is your cup of tea, you’ll easily find some good gear to quite literally knock yourself out with and a comfortable sleeping spot on one of the benches outside of the church.
It’s not all Messiahs and pariahs though.
I have to be fair and say that every now and then you come across a gem of a person who isn’t blowing shamanic smoke up their own arses. Also, the Chalice Well gardens are pretty nice though that’s a short walk away from the circus of the High Street.
