On Missing Glastonbury

"IT'S GLASTONBURY 2011 - AND IT'S SO AMAZING". Zane Lowe will no doubt be shouting to a camera before introducing act 162 on stage 48.

I'm not there. Despite my apparent indifference to this and the usual 'it's far too big/not the same anymore/lost it's vibe/hi-jacked by the BBC' arguments I do have a pang of envy when I start receiving text messages from my friends who are there, screaming across my Nokia's one inch square screen, "IT'S GLASTONBURY 2011 - AND IT'S SO AMAZING".

I do owe Glasto. It was on returning from this festival many moons ago that I decided to never work a full week again. It wasn't just down to Glasto but it definitely hit the final nail in my nine-to-five, five day week coffin. And gleefully so.

Instead of going to Glastonbury 2011 I find myself in London town staring in disbelief at a double mattress left on the corner of a busy street. People completely ignore it, rushing past to the Londis for their Friday night combo - a Carlsberg 6 pack, tube of sour cream Pringles and 20 Marlboro Lights.

I feel like a self-absorbed character in a independent American movie. An ambient effect-laden solo guitar soundtrack plays whilst the mattress image is juxtaposed with a close-up shot of my eyes blinking in slow motion - the sequence repeated several times.

It might not be as exciting as being at Glastonbury but, to be honest, I'd even put staring at a mattress on a pavement above watching Coldplay any day.