We're Not Worthy - Oh Yes, We Are!

Hand on heart, if you'd asked me two weeks ago I was seriously doubtful I'd make this year's Glastonbury Festival but, after taking things easy for a fortnight, the hip pain has subsided into a nagging - but manageable - ache. I'm off to get x-rayed this afternoon but as the doctor won't be able to get hold of me until next week I'm going for it while I still can. We're off to Worthy Farm in less than 12 hours and excited is not the word!

Wearing: 1970s maxi dress (20p, jumble sale, ages ago), denim waistcoat (a friend found in a chazza), excited face (courtesy of Glastonbury)

Our month spent travelling in India and five nights at Glastonbury are our holidays. I know that to most people a week under canvas in a mud-sodden field with limited access to water, a shared communal toilet and a diet of food cooked over a single gas jet isn't an ideal way to spend a holiday but to us it's perfect. A chance to live simply, to do whatever we like; to strike up random conversation with strangers; to discover new music & bask in our favourites; to experience the weird and the wonderful; to drink wine for breakfast & eat chips at bedtime; to sleep whenever the fancy takes us; to put the world to rights over a late night campfire; to dance in the rain; to wander the site getting hopelessly lost....I'm already getting butterflies at the thought of it all.  HERE's this year's line-up.

In a desperate bid to put off the tedium of packing, I spent yesterday browsing the 'net for all things Glasto. As usual there were photos from previous years' festivals featuring page upon page of celebs & wannabes in the ubiquitous uniform of Hunter wellies, army jackets and cut-off Levis.....and then I saw this vision in psychedelia.

Paloma Faith labelled "Worst Dressed" by The Telegraph. Get stuffed, you boring old Tory broadsheet, I think she looks amazing. Funnily enough their photographer snapped me last year as part of their festival fashion spread - I wouldn't be surprised if that was for their fail list, too. 

Inspired by Paloma I've made some myself some pompom-tastic jewellery for the week ahead. 

There's no new clothes to show you, you've seen them all before, they've been worn countless times and that's fine by me. They work, make me happy and, being vintage, there's no chance on earth anyone is going to be wearing the same, unlike the girls who follow those lame festival fashion guides in magazines and all end up looking depressingly similar.


In amongst the frivolous chat & rumours on the Glasto Facebook page there's often some useful advice. Yesterday morning someone suggested testing out your waterproofs in advance so, as it was pissing it down, Jon & I donned our rain capes & wellies and walked around the garden for 15 minutes only to discover both ponchos had come apart at the seams - charity shop fail! Normally I'd patch them up with duct tape but, with rainfall of near biblical proportions over the last fortnight I'm not risking it, I went on-line and ordered replacements - paying more for the next day delivery than the items themselves. Never mind, the capes were half price, mine's purple and have over fifty positive reviews.

I've sprayed him with the hosepipe and it works. Weather gods, throw whatever you want at us, we're ready for you.

Just in case you're concerned we're shirking our responsibilities and missing the referendum, living the hedonistic hippy dream in a field, worry not. We're registered for postal voting and sent our ballot papers off a fortnight ago. The other day a couple of random strangers stopped and told us that they could tell which way we were voting by the way we were dressed. So, if you're confused, if you wear vintage you're "in".

See you on the other side - knackered, dirty and hungover but hopefully on two feet and still in Europe!