Cornwall is over. Glastonbury is over. Something like Love is over. Life begins again, something altogether different.Glastonbury 2009 was spectacularly unexpectedly fantastic; breakfast baps, pear cider, wellies, tanned shoulders, broken tent, Bon Iver. Beautiful.
I would love to take my Dad to next years 40th anniversary installment, he had these shining eyes when I got back and sat rapt while I regaled him through Wednesday's 5 hour bus queue to Monday's 5am trek off the site of Worthy Farm. It took 7 hours to bring myself to shower away the second skin of festival dirt that I wanted to cling to. Instead I created an aptly ecelectic Glast09 playlist of which features particular favourites Brackett, WI and The Wolves (Bon Iver), Tender (Blur), Cancel On Me (Bombay Bicycle Club), Toothpaste Kisses (Maccabbees), and You've Got The Love (Florence & the Machine). On Sunday night I realised why festival venterans keep their bands on their wrists until they fray and break.
I have inherited, as it would seem, my dad's relaxed disposition of time management, organisation and general procrastination, which to be fair he did make a point of apologising for when I was hours away from a dissertation deadline and far from finished. This culminated in a situation thus: project 'garden pond' is suffice to say ongoing, and so on returning from the train station on Monday a.m. June 29th to strengthening heat I was faced with a empty pool of cold water and nothing better to do. Calf-deep in pond water it occurred to me that our garden is not overlooked on any side, which was a very pleasing discovery.
Monday night yoga relaxed out some of my taughtness from sleeping on the ground and unsupportive wellies but again reminded me that I am extremely unsupple. Today is a faux new year; resolve to try Bikram yoga to enhance suppleness, find a job, soak it up, enjoy it.
