Glastonbury Festival always brings a few visitors to the town, many of them are crew and performers stopping by for a few days before heading off to their next event. It can be quite shocking coming back to the ‘real world’ after spending a week or more at Somerset’s most surreal and frenetic camping trip. Glastonbury Town acts like a decompression chamber, it’s got roads, supermarkets and flushing toilets, but no one’s likely to get too concerned if you’re still wearing a sarong and flip-flops and talking about the weird afternoon you’d had in Lost Horizons sauna watching a guy hanging upside down in a tree playing the guitar and singing Jolene. (This really happened see this YouTube video )
The Rifleman’s Arms in Chilkwell Street, Glastonbury, is a proper pub. It’s the pub I measure all other pubs against, if there’s a Platonic Ideal of Pubs then the Rifle’s, as it is affectionately known, is it. I first drank in there when I came to the town for the 8.8.88 Free Festival on the Tor, and when I moved to Glastonbury in 1993 it became my ‘local’. The pub has buckets of atmosphere with its dimly lit, low ceilinged 16th Century front bar, stone mullioned window frames, old wooden tables and roaring log fires in Winter.
One of the wonderful things about living in Glastonbury is going to visit somewhere else, especially when that somewhere else is a complete contrast to the Town, and is only a 10 minute cycle away. It does sometimes amaze me that people spend a small fortune going on a workshop to find peace and serenity … Read more