No cider sessions, no waking up in the wrong tent – my grown-up Glasto still rocked

Superfood vitamin sachets, a curfew – and not drinking so much cider that I fell asleep in the wrong tent. How refreshing to be doing Glastonbury as an older and wiser grown-up, writes Olivia Petter

Back in the day, the festival was about nothing else but fun, a modus operandi that I often took to the extreme (PA)

Earplugs. An eye mask. And a set of thermal underwear.

It’s hardly the typical Glastonbury packing list, and yet, that pretty much summed up my approach to the annual bacchanalia, which I have attended almost every year since the age of 16. And at 29, it’s safe to say some things have changed.

Don’t get me wrong, I was itching at the bit to flail my limbs around in a muddy field with my friends. But this year, I wanted to do so with a very different mindset – one that would have been completely foreign to me even just a few years ago.