Glastonbury has always been a special place for me.
I went to my first music festival there around 30 years ago. I was 16 and I think that it was probably my first trip away without adult supervision.
We got the coach down there for what would have been the first of many memorable trips to Glastonbury and I can still remember how I felt as we reached Glastonbury itself.
Everything seemed to become more lively and colourful. The whole mood of the area seemed magical and filled with promise.
I didn’t get to visit the Tor that first time. Instead, the Tor and its tower seemed to shimmer in the distance, like a vision from Arthurian myth or a fairy-tale.
The festival itself was incredible. It was eye-opening and inspiring in equal measures and it left an indelible mark on my teenage mind.
I spent the days until I was next able to go, wishing I was back in those rolling fields, surrounded by all that music, vibrancy, colour and the overwhelming sense of freedom I had experienced.
Glastonbury and its festival had made me feel truly alive, like anything could be possible.
It was three, long, wistful years before I got to go back again and then it became a yearly pilgrimage, albeit with different friends over the subsequent years.
And still the Tor remains steadfast on the horizon, first as a beacon to let us know our long journey there was almost over, then it was watching silently over the festival from a distance. It’s silhouette against the sky, just as beautiful and mythical as the first time I saw it.
It wasn’t until I moved to the South West that I visited Glastonbury out of festival season, and finally got to climb the Tor with some friends who had come to visit me for the day.
It was a beautiful day. The sun was just the right amount of hot for climbing hills and the sky was the bluest blue.
The view from the top was breath-taking and we sat there for quite a while, talking and laughing together.
Since that first climb, I have been back to the Tor on several occasions.
Thinking back to a time where I was able to leave the house by myself seems unthinkable now, like a different lifetime in a parallel universe.
I have a severe hyper-sensitivity to light, sound and smell and I know I wouldn’t last five minutes at a music festival now. It would be too bright, too noisy, too much for my poorly brain and body. And whilst the view from the Tor would still be a soothing balm for my soul, there is no way I could physically make it up there anymore.
All I can do is hope that one day, I might be able to climb the hill once more and add to the many happy memories Glastonbury has provided me over the years.
Lately, Glastonbury has become a special place for my parents as well. They don’t live locally, but like to visit there a few times a year. If I was well enough, it would be the perfect place to meet up with them and we could maybe climb the Tor together.
It is a dream I’m not sure will ever happen, although I’d like to think that maybe it could one day.
If anywhere has the magic to make it happen, then it is Glastonbury.
I think that’s what I miss most. I miss that sense of magic, freedom and adventure that Glastonbury embodies for me.
I miss everything my memories of the Tor represents. Spending time with friends, with family, laughing with loved ones. I miss the sunshine and the blue skies and I miss that view. I’m not sure I miss that climb though! It was always quite tiring even when I was able-bodied. But I know I would do it again in a heartbeat if I could.
If you are listening to this, I hope you appreciate where you are right now.
You are somewhere very special, somewhere I long to be. And one day you might find yourself looking back and wishing very much to be back there again.
Please take a moment to really savour everything around you. Remember the small details. Take a photo if you can. Think about how you were feeling as you look at that magnificent view.
I do hope the weather is good for you today. I hope it’s the sort of day that sticks in your mind for years to come. I hope it gives you a sense of freedom, adventure, and that perhaps anything might be possible. And perhaps maybe one day if I’m lucky, I might even see you back there.
