Post 1555. Sunday |June25
Before starting I must thank all of those that read my recent 100-word story 'An Empty Bottle'. Never before has one of my little tales received so many hits! Thank you also for the many encouraging comments that were left.
The night was over in the single blink of an eye. I may have snatched some sleep, I don’t know. I’m so excited. I crawl from my tiny tent, its tattered fabric fluttering in the wind. Will it remain rooted here? I’m not bothered, I’m not here to rest.
Just look around. There are thousand here. Laughter fills the air. A few wander aimlessly about, some sit hunched holding their heads, no doubt vowing never to get drunk again, but they will, and not just drunk!
It’s starting to rain. Now it’s lashing down and the dust under my feet is turning to mud. Listen, a huge cheer is going up. After all, who wants a festival without mud?
The crowd is moving. Come on. The queue is curving right around the camp site and then into the arena. Nearly there.
The sound of guitars being tuned, drums being bashed and mikes being checked is resonating across the field. One two testing, one two!
It’s almost time. Are you ready?
Suddenly the sheer volume is driving all other thoughts from my mind. I’m swaying, I’m swinging, I’m spinning, I’m singing. I look stupid, but I don’t care. Nobody does!
It's Glastonbury Festival weekend and at The Sunday Whirl, the given words are - snatch, single, tattered, dust, spun, lash, drunk, rooted, sheer, curve, blink, and sly. I used all but one.