Overheard in Glastonbury Town

I can’t really take credit for this post. I’ve been busy this week, having a birthday, helping run an Angelic Healing Retreat Centre, organising the infrastructure for a field at Glastonbury Festival, booking pirate folk bands for Tewkesbury Medieval Re-enactment, arranging for this blog to be self hosted and failing to go to the Bardic Trials at the Assembly Rooms because it was just one thing too many. I needed some post content that wouldn’t take too much brain power.

I had some some examples of things I’d overheard in Glastonbury already written down and thought they’d make a good start to a post:

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What’s Normal for Glastonbury?

Glastonbury High St Broomsticks

I love Glastonbury, I’ve been visiting since the 8th of August 1988 (8/8/88 of course) and have lived here since July 1993. I’ve tried moving away, even emigrating, but I’ve been pulled back repeatedly – by the Glastonbury rubber band effect as it’s locally known. Glastonbury is an endlessly fascinating parade of engaging characters, mythology and history, interesting shops, and great musicians. Except on my less positive days when it’s shabby, shambolic and full of nutters trying to blag a quid.

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