You’ve got the tickets. You’ve bought the tent. You spent 50 quid on an inflatable mattress with a special inbuilt sleeping bag, and acquired Ziploc bags filled with clean folded socks and plastic-free LUSH products. When the full Glastonbury line up was revealed last week, you printed it off and highlighted the artists you intend on seeing, ensuring there are no clashes. Whenever you get nervous about the whole thing, you quietly whisper your mantra: “You control the festival, the festival does not control you.”
Except, sorry to break it to you, but actually it does. Because as soon as you walk into that muddy Somerset mini village, time becomes a warped version of what it was before. Hours are lost to extended toilet detours and cheesy chips breaks. Days are broken up into being passed out, and being not passed out. Any good intentions you had of seeing something worthwhile, like Caroline Lucas doing a speech about the dying planet, or Janet Jackson performing “Scream”, will be upended by someone’s boyfriend insisting on dragging everyone to Idris Elba's DJ set, or some old wizard in the healing fields giving you mushroom juice and you having to endure an earth-shattering religious awakening.
With that in mind, we’re not going to give you a handy guide to everything you’re going to see at Glastonbury 2019 because let's face it: you won’t be able to stick to your careful schedule. Instead, here’s a handy guide to everything you will miss this year because you’re a mess.
Why you think you should go: The Cure were fundamental to your adolescent experience. All those nights lying awake listening to “Just Like Heaven” like the star of your own coming-of-age movie. All those breakups softened by the sound of Robert Smith whispering “Close to Me.” All those years losing yourself in the black, starry tapestry of their back catalogue. Seeing The Cure now would be a spiritual experience, you don’t even care that they’re old.
Why you absolutely won’t: It's 9PM on the Sunday and you have not slept for 24 hours after a toilet attendant gave you some weird speed and you ended up rigorously fist-pumping in one spot alone by a junkyard sculpture for the whole night. You spot an empty hammock by a tree. 'I'll just rest my eyes before ambling over to The Cure,' you think. The next thing you know it's Monday afternoon and you're being shaken awake by someone in high-vis telling you to leave the premises, immediately.
MARK RONSON PRESENTS CLUB HEARTBREAK
Why you think you should go: That track Mark Ronson did with Miley Cyrus was the best thing either of them have done in years. What better way to spend the Saturday night than dancing to sad bangers until 5AM?
Why you absolutely won't: At some point on the Saturday you find some AAA wristbands on the floor and sneak into the VIP bar backstage. By the time midnight rolls around you’ve completely forgotten about Mark Ronson. You’re too busy having a coked up conversation with a prime-time TV presenter about Brexit while trying and failing to chirpse someone who once definitely appeared on Popworld. Grimmy and the guy from The Feeling have just started a conga, and there's no way you're not joining in.
ANY TALKS ABOUT CLIMATE CHANGE / BREXIT / FEMINISM
Why you think you should go: You consider yourself relatively woke. You started using a moon cup last year and have some #opinions about Rory Stewart becoming PM. You did that tweet about abortion that got 106 faves and now you're considering shaving your eyebrows in protest of fossil fuels. Extinction Rebellion are doing some talks on Saturday morning, so you should prob drag your mates to it.
Why you absolutely won't: You wake up face down on a pile of discarded paper cups. It could be morning, it could be afternoon, you're not really sure. Your mouth tastes like a dead racoon and there's dried vomit in your hair. You check your phone. Someone posted a pic of you at 5AM gurning in a Native American headdress and bindi while throwing up a peace sign. It's been RTed 5K times. You've been cancelled, and possibly fired.
Why you think you should go: Everyone agrees it would be fun to see what this guy's about. What is he going to wear? How is he for real? Besides, none of you are that bothered about seeing Liam Gallagher on the Saturday night, so you may as well head down to this.
Why you absolutely won't: You so nearly make it. But just as you start ambling over to Pussy Parlure at Silver Hayes (keep up, it's not officially called the Dance Village anymore), you spot a large circle gathering. People are roaring. They sound deranged. You elbow your way to the front and find a group of topless men, wrestling in the mud. Everyone agrees it would be a laugh to watch for a bit. Cut to three hours later and you're sweating, red in the face, spittle flying everywhere as you tackle an old man called Steve into the ground.
POWER BALLAD YOGA
Why you think you should go: Aw this would be a fun one to do with the girls. Glastonbury isn't all about the music you know. There's a whole wealth of experiences to choose from, and doing downward dog to the sound of “Total Eclipse of The Heart” could be exactly what you need right now.
Why you absolutely won't: You wake up with the kind of hunger that feels as though your stomach is being ripped in half. You spend half an hour queuing for some black bean dahl, before someone needs the loo and you spend a further hour finding some compost loos that aren’t covered in period blood and sick. Just as you think you might catch the end of yoga, someone loses their wallet and you spend two hours combing through the grass at the stone circle. It's now 2PM.
Why you think you should go: Mahalia's chill, loungey vibes are exactly the sort of thing that should get you through your Friday hangover. Time Out gave her four stars and you saw her on at least three "ones to watch" lists, so that's got to count for something right?
Why you absolutely won't: It's pissing it down with such intensity that you've begun to think you might actually sink into the mud and never come out. Your boyfriend's gone off in a strop because you broke his portable gas cooker and now it's too wet to leave your tent anyway. Fuck this. Absolutely fuck this. You make a mental note to leave a day earlier, catch Mahalia live in a regular venue made of bricks with a full roof, and also dump your boyfriend.