Glastonbury comes of age

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The Independent Culture
THIS WAS the year when the Glastonbury festival hit the big time: 600 acres, over 100,000 people, and, at last, an established place in the public's consciousness. It was memorable, too. Phones, concerts and cafes fuelled by wind, sun and even pedal-power - a glimpse of the future. An on-site protest march against the Criminal Injustice Bill. Crusties and the upper crust. Beer, cigarettes. Breakfast of beans and chips, or Es and trips. Circus (a whole field), theatre (a whole field), poetry, more raves than official concerts, cinema (two of them), painting (canvas and body), sculpture (join in at Stone Free), DIY music, sumo wrestling, the Human Gyroscope. Political agitation, from Nalgo to the Advance Party. Tents, teepees and buses. Kids smiling all day long - kids don't cry at Glastonbury. Neither do accountants.

Glastonbury is impossible to imagine unless you've been there. If you've been more than once, like our tattooed friend in the picture, it has become something special to you: an annual rekindling of your humanity, a reminder that we are all one, united by toilet trenches, sweat and water queues. What makes it special is its spirit. Shootings, pounds 60 tickets, double fences: none of these earthly pressures can touch it. For me this was Glastonbury number four. Next year is the festival's 25th anniversary. Here are fragmentary glimpses from four and a half hours of video, shot over two days and nights last weekend. ]

(Photograph omitted)

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