I’ve been to Glastonbury LOADS of times, I was there when Jay-Z played, I was there when I heard that big big nonce Michael Jackson had died. But I never really ever intended to take my kid. And until I did, I had no idea that Glastonbury’s actually a dead good kids holiday.
I know the best place to camp is under a pylon at the Pyramid stage, so your mates can find you.
I know that the Wednesday is solely about getting there, setting up your tent, and the inevitable “peak too soon”.
My very first Glastonbury Wednesday we’d ended up camping next to these two older fellas called Judis and Bush, along with a Scouse couple we’d met on the coach.
My Glastonbury initiation in 2008 – pre-Sonny – included me losing a friends bag of ecstasy tablets and collapsing asleep with my head outside of the tent… perforating my ear drum. (Felt cute, might delete).
I know the Thursday is all about wandering round, getting your bearings, and waiting for Block 9 to open, before having a big sit down up at the Stone Circle. I know The Green Police will publicly shame anyone trying to piss in the bushes. (They chase you with whistles and won’t stop making a show until you agree to take a leaflet about pollution. So, best to give in swiftly!)
Friday is the day it feels like the festival really starts. Setting your itinerary based on the free fixtures booklet they provide you with on your way into the festival. Then heading back up to the Shangri La after the bands finish to see some madness on stilts.
By the Saturday morning getting dressed seems like a mountain to climb. But it is absolutely necessary so you can escape your putrid, panic attack inducing sleeping bag in 300 degree heat just to empty your bulging bladder.
3pm on the Sunday you’re tearfully sentimental and ready to give the last night all you’ve got. The coach home on the Monday always reminds me of that scene from Almost Famous when they’re all travelling home after they thought they were going to die on the plane.
I knew that kids were allowed to go to Glastonbury but I don’t remember ever noticing children. When Sonny came along, I’d dream about him being big enough to come with us but I thought he’d have to be about 12 before he came, because of all the walking and sitting round.
If I’m really honest, I don’t think I was anywhere near ready to give up the freedom and total irresponsibility that Glastonbury afforded me for 5 days every year.
When I first became a “single mum” a friend of mine was planning a trip to Thailand with two of her mates. She asked me if I wanted to come, and obviously I did! So I texted Sonny’s dad and said “what would you say if I said I fancied going to Thailand for 10 days, without Sonny”? He was sound and that I should go for it. He’d take care of Sonny.
He changed his tune though, the minute I booked and paid for the flights! All of a sudden I was a “joke of a mother” if I went on holiday AND went to Glastonbury. (Funny isn’t it that no one ever questions the amount of time dads spend on holiday?).
So I buggered off to Thailand and figured I’d take Sonny to Glastonbury with me... HE WAS 5!!
June 2012 I panicked A LOT! I even had a few nightmares! I’d need to take so much more stuff! Sonny was only five years old! Was I being dead selfish? Would he even have a good time?!
He wouldn’t be able to carry anything. So, I planned… and I planned hard! I bought a large tent which fitted a proper self inflating double airbed in, with an attached porch big enough to store a trailer trolley (the ones you buy for doing bits around the garden). Best thing I’ve ever bought in my life tbqhwy. And I bought a huge top of the range cool box, on wheels!!
I bought bungie cords so I could pile my trolley dead high with fab clothes and comfy bedding and strap it secure, so it all didn’t end up in the mud. I bought a Sharpie to write my phone number on his arm and a little pop up plastic cup, that he could do a quick wee in (tbh that turned out to be total rubbish and just left me covered in piss).
I froze Capri-Suns to use as ice packs and filled the cool box with packets of ham, wraps, sandwich fillers and a bottle* of survival gin (*3 bottles). I also bought bags of marshmallows, Nutella and digestive biscuits, in case we built a fire.
I was lit!
We set off at 3am on the Wednesday morning. He slept all the way and I spent a lovely 5 hours terrified that someone would rear end us. He’d obviously die from having his legs crushed in the glove box, and I’d be decapitated by the big metal trailer trolley on the back seat.
We got within 2 miles of the car park by 8am but it took us another 2 hours to get in and parked up. I admit, I was bricking it now!
The multi tasking trauma of keeping eye on Sonny, loading our bags onto the trailer trolly, while also really really needing a wee, is something no stressful day in the office can prepare you for.
I left emergency clothes and underwear in the car in case of bad weather or the inevitable toilet catastrophe.
Then we stood in the queue for what seemed like forever! I was tired already, and riddled with anxiety. Dragging the trailer trolley up the muddy hill, past the Acoustic stage to the family camping area, constantly encouraging Sonny to walk somewhere within my bloody eye line; it was a test of physical, mental and emotional stability.
Just as I stopped to burst into tears, a fella walking the other way grabbed the trailer trolley and pulled it up the hill for me (he was probably a scouser, but I was too busy crying to find out).
Sound, we’re in! I found a spec to put the tent up, while Sonny played with two kids from the next tent.
So there I was thinking “Sound! This is brill!”. On cue Sonny pissed himself and had to wear a tracky top for emergency kecks as I unpacked. Never mind. At least he’s gonna stay dead close to me and never ever get lost. We’re gonna have a great weekend…
WRONG! He goes missing immediately!
I’m inside the tent putting up the air bed as Sonny and his two new mates are running laps around it. Until there’s just two of them giggling, running round the tent.
HE’S GONE!
I’ve gone to DEFCON 1 in 0.2 seconds, running round frantically shouting his name. But he was nowhere to be fucking seen! For like, over 5 whole minutes!
I began to get visions in my head of me sat with Phil and Holly explaining how I’d “only took my eyes off him for a second”, as the general public are calling me all kinds on the internet.
Finally, a woman came over to me and asked if I was “Sarah with the short hair”? I confirmed I was and she made me describe Sonny in great detail before revealing that she’d found him! FUCKING HELL! She brought him back and I enjoyed my second Glastonbury cry of the day. It wasn’t even 10am!
Traumatic as it was, his new found fear of getting lost gave me tremendous confidence that we could get through the rest of the festival in one piece. I was hopeful that we could start having fun, sometime time soon.
We walked to the circus field, bought 2 fruit salads and sat on the sun scorched grass watching the world go by, enjoying my first minute of peace in 24 very awake hours.
During our wander around, a women stopped us to give Sonny a bag of bee pollen and told us that if he ate it, his (really quite tremendous) hay fever would go away. Which it did! Magic!
We wandered towards the Green Peace field and found a little sand pit and paddling pool. It wasn’t supposed to be a paddling pool. But we’re Scousers and we do what we want, k!
We discovered a skate park in the Green Fields (where we would spend most of our time). We made mates with the lads who ran it and they would charge my phone for me and give us ice cubes and me cold lager. It was bloody boiling!!
10pm that night we joined a crowd forming between the Acoustic stage, the Camper van site and the Circus field. Climbing up a massive giant metal cockroach thing to get a better view, there was a car-thing with flames coming out of it!! Doing massive skids and wheelies on the grass! All the kids were thrilled! And I must admit it was pretty bloody spectacular.
We were sat up high and could see lights from the festival for miles. Sonny turned to me and said “This is the best day ever, I love you Mummy”.
And that’s when I enjoyed my 3rd Glastonbury cry.
5 days is a long time. There’s not much sleep to be had, between staying up late, the uncomfortable set up, and Sonny bouncing up at 6am. We walked around a lot and went exploring in the early mornings, when very few people were about. He didn’t like the crowds and we spent most of the busy day time in the kids field. A glorious place with climbing frames, face painting, woodwork and circus skills lessons, all kinds! And there was absolutely nothing available to buy – a bloody rare thing in any child entertainment space.
One of my mates had come to meet us and cos we’re both ded fit, we were caught on camera and became the BBC ident for the entire Glastonbury weekend
At one point we were enjoying a little sit down wine and lemonade (out of a Sprite bottle) in the kids field where Sonny was playing. He came over and asked us to queue with him to get his face painted. Sound. But as we did, we became increasingly aware of a young lad (about 19) behind us. Talking to himself (obviously twisted) and holding a lasagne!
Twisted! Holding a lasagne! Standing in the queue for a kids face paint!... I’ll never ever forget him. Not as long as I live.
Another Glastonbury moment I’ll never forget is asking a man directions, “Excuse me mate, where’s Gate A”? He replied “Gate Potato”?! Still fucks my head up to this day.
The best thing we learned to do at Glastonbury was bunk in the queue for the loo. I would give Sonny the signal to start acting desperate, while I went “I know babe, just try and hold on a tiny bit longer…” dead loud in my best “mummy” voice, until everyone in front of us let us go first. Honestly, this trick saved us hours and hours over the 5 days! Half the time he didn’t even need it, but I’m an every 20 minutes girl.
Sonny wore the same tracksuit and face paint for days, he was in his little mucky boy element. And my frozen Capri-Suns and toasted marshmallows made me the Pied Piper of the kids.
The best bit of each day was setting up a little fire, a bit back from the crowds at the Pyramid Stage, where we’d wait patiently for 10pm, to climb up the big cockroach and watch the flame-y car-thingy.
I can’t even tell you I spent a lot of money. It cost a bomb to get us there but once inside, I don’t think I spent more than £150.
There were some sacrifices to be made but if you don’t mind bypassing your favourite bands in favour of a face paint or wood work class, I’d urge anyone to give it a go.
Its a very very good kids holiday, even for single mums like me. Admittedly, I felt forced to do it, but I’m so so glad I did. Its our little thing now. Our time together and we love it.
One year we even went straight on to Newquay for a week after Glastonbury… but that’s another story! We’re still not quite ready to talk about “The Fishing Trip”.
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