The bizarre can become commonplace in Glastonbury. Things that in other towns might cause consternation, shock or front page headlines often raise barely an eyebrow.
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.
Surely there aren’t two Glastonbury towns in England?
The local Tourist Information office likes to pretend that Glastonbury is a small market town with an historic abbey in it. They don’t like to acknowledge that most of Glastonbury’s tourists come here for the weirdness, Glastonbury Tor, crystal and magic shops, vegetarian cafes, etc. In fact they avoid mentioning any of this wherever possible. They don’t like putting posters up for local events that are at all alternative. Or advertising local B&Bs that might cater to anyone looking for anything quirky and original.