Then the three security who'd been idly watching told us they were taking us off site. They hadn't been bought off, the guys with the rope ladder were lying. The security were really apologetic, but they said they were being watched by their bosses and had to take us away. The people who'd taken our money watched, laughing.

The guards said they were changing shift at 8pm, and so that'd be the best time to go for it. They pointed out one gap under the fence on the walk out, and also advised going up to the top of the Green fields, the place where we, and so many others, had got in last year.

We walked round up to the green fields, and there were dozens and dozens of others doing the same. We gave a few people a leg up to get over, but we were on too much of an adrenalin comedown from our first jump to go again straight away.

Last year we'd got in on the Tuesday when it was a lot laxer, and then on the Wednesday a whole crew of us fresh from the Manchester Airport campaign took the inner wire-grille fence down, so that people jumping over could get straight in without getting collared. It got hundreds in. What we needed was a gang of people all airported-up like last year.

Then we met Daisy, one of the Airport crew and a key instigator of last year's fence-undoing. We found a spot where two trees overhang the fence and there was also a tunnel under the fence. We put our two ropes on the fence and Daisy just said Go For It. So we did.

Five people went simultaneously, five more straight behind them and so on. The first ones took down the inner fence, so there was nothing that the three security guards could do. They were near the end of their shift, and so not really up for giving any real hassle. There were fifty or sixty of us coming through, the security just said 'there's nothing we can do, so we're not going to stop you. Just take your time so nobody gets hurt'.

They know the score at Glastonbury. The license for the festival limits the number of tickets, and Michael Eavis knows that the site can comfortably and safely hold far more. The tickets always sell out, so jumping the fence doesn't rip off the festival. In fact, I see it as quite an ethical way to go; by not buying a ticket, I leave one free for someone who couldn't or wouldn't come without one.

I'd brought my big tent, a 4-person, cos Glastonbury is always full of friends with nowhere to crash. Daisy and Adam from Manchester Earth First! got the spaces. It was Thursday night, and already the ground was churned up quag on the main drags. Last year, it had only rained for the week before, this year it's been raining for months, and was carrying on while we were there.

But the thing is that Glastonbury is not just a music festival. It's a vast city of cultural expression. (It's weird to know the geography of the city so well, considering it's not there when I'm not. Imagine if London wasn't there except when I go).The bands are a tiny part of it. A rainy Phoenix would be a nightmare (although it's cancelled this year, hahahahaha, bunch of fucking crooks), but there is so much to do at Glastonbury, if you don't have a good time it's cos you did it wrong.

You just have to be flexible. And when it takes 30 minutes to walk from the Sacred Space to the main stage area, you have to accept that you're not going to be going to many places. And when you see that the main stage area looks like the Battle Of The Somme, you have to accept that you're not going to enjoy anything round there. So find other things.

Last year we spent a lot of time hanging out in the cafes in the Green Fields, especially Ecotrip. Ecotrip do loads of the festies and are probably the coolest cafe: they're open 12 noon to 6 or 8am (very civilised), at 30p a brew and £2 for burger and salad, they're the cheapest there is, all their food is vegan, and most of it is organic and/or genetic-modification free. They have really good talks/discussions (Howard Marks, Reclaim The Streets) as well as live music, and the PA is powered by three exercise bikes pedalled by people in the audience. All their staff are volunteers, the profits fund eco-direct action. But best of all, they have a big carpeted area where no boots are allowed, so you can sit somewhere warm and clean and nestle in for a few hours. If you're going to the Big Green Gathering or any other major festy, check them out.

The other place we found last year to hang for hours was the cabaret tent, and we were back again last week. There's a kind of World Service Syndrome going on there; just like listening to the BBC World Service, there's a very wide variety of stuff on (and you've no idea what's coming next), most of it's pretty good, some of it is superb, and even when it's shit it's only on for 20 minutes so there'll probably be something good soon. We saw lots of mediocre comedians, astonishing jugglers, and several of the same awful ones that made us leave as last year (junk-instrument band of boring egomaniacs Weapons Of Sound, the groovily-named Doctor Midnight who's actually just a bloke who does half a dozen very similar blues tunes on harmonica, and some bloke who impersonates military bands).

On the plus side, we saw absolutely outstanding stuff from poets Attila The Stockbroker and Joolz, and also comedian Mitch Benn (who we'd just happened to see last year, and made a point of it this time round) "what the fuck's going on? Last time too wet, time before too hot, this year too hot AND too wet. What's next year, a fucking plague of frogs?" and also "the toilets: a little tupperware tardis full of other people's shit. Could you design anything more unpleasant without the use of moving parts?".

Other cabaret tent stuff worth a mention: 1) John Otway doing You Ain't Seen Nothin' Yet with Attila The Stockbroker simultaneously translating the lyrics into German, and 2) a comedian with the idea that we should overthrow all governments and put your mum in charge. Imagine your mum going to Iraq to look for chemical weapons - it took the UN two whole months to find anything, your mum would find it in two minutes. Imagine your mum sorting out the handover of Hong Kong: "Christopher, have you got the Chinese's Hong Kong? Well you just give it back. How would you like it if someone took your land and kept it?". Imagine your mum in Bosnia going up to troops "And where do you think you're going?". "Fighting". "And who told you you could do that? Hmm?". "Radovan Karodic". "And I suppose if Radovan Karodic told you to put your hand in the fire you'd do that as well, would you? Come on, give me your guns and go home".

The sauna in the Healing Field was a popular spot, and we did that on Saturday. It was fucking great. Stay in there as long as you can handle it, then come out for a mad cold shower. Somewhere warm where you can get out of your muddy clothes! Hurrah!! Annwen came out slightly later than me, and it had started raining (again), so she took her shower naturally. The sight of a shiny clean naked Annwen steaming in the rain is one of the most splendid things I've ever seen.

And as for the bands, well I'd love to have seen Dylan, but the Pyramid Stage was hopeless, especially by Sunday night. Think about it, if someone said to you that the next time Dylan plays Hammersmith Apollo, they'll knock a hole in the back wall and let you watch from there while someone continually hoses you down and other people throw buckets of mud at you, you wouldn't go. I figured it was the same deal. It was just too grim for the usual Glastonbury bands-frenzy or serious drugs-frenzy.

The real mystery to me was Tony Bennett. The schmaltzy Radio 2 crooning twat was doing the Sunday afternoon on the Pyramid stage before Sonic Youth. On the assumption that nobody genuinely thinks he's any good, who the fuck is going to wade through half a mile of quag to stand ankle deep in mud to watch someone crap FOR A LAUGH?? I almost went just to see who else was going.

Although we saw some good bands in the Green Fields (most notably Head Mix Collective), the one that we made a real point of seeing was Rolf.

I saw Rolf when he opened the festival in 93 on the Pyramid Stage, and he was great. He came on as Jake The Peg, complete with extra leg, and did all his classics plus I Can't Get No Satisfaction, Honky Tonk Women, Roadhouse Blues and more. This year he was doing the Acoustic Tent. All my mates turned out to be Rolf-wusses, and Annwen only came cos she wanted to laugh at me being so into it.

We came up the field and could hear the crowd chanting "we want Rolf, we want Rolf". The tent was totally packed, and people were peeling up the sides to watch from outside, six rows deep in the pouring rain. And then he came on, straight into Tie My Kangaroo Down Sport.

It's a weirdy with Rolf - I know a lot of liking him is an ironic thing, but that is only part of the picture (can you tell what it is yet?). It's definitely not about laughing AT him, and I think cos he's such a friendly figure from your childhood that part of you really loves him.

He reminds me of my my uncle Stewart if he was on E. And there's the real point - your uncle might not be hip, but you've known him all your life and you wish him well and it's good to see him doing well at things he likes.

And Rolf also rocks. He did Perfect Day, Satisfaction, Edwyn Collins' A Girl Like You, Doo Wah Diddy Diddy (as 'doo wah didgery didgery dum didgeridoo'), and Alanis Morissette's One Hand In My Pocket ("Cos I've got one hand in my pocket, and the other's......on my didgeridoo", cue bringing out of his didg to an enormous cheer, straight into didg solo. Classic).

By the end of his set, we'd wormed our way inside the tent and Annwen was well into it. He encored with Stairway To Heaven, and by sheer demand did a second encore of Sun Arise. He said it was 'one of the best nights of me life'. Fucking great.

On Sunday afternoon we were slightly drunk and very stoned in the cabaret tent, and got restless, so we went out and it had turned into Glastonbury Festival. The sun was out, but there was something more, the Glastonbury vibe had kicked in and we realised that it hadn't been quite there all weekend. That general blissed out thing that makes you just want to bimble around looking at stuff, it was there. So we wandered a bit. And we felt up for doing stuff. What, on paper, looked like the tough choice between Nick Cave and Julian Cope was made easy by Cave being on the Pyramid Stage and Copey being in the acoustic tent.

Me and Annwen bumped into a friend who sells good quality drugs and bought an E (a Tasmanian Devil), split it, necked it and went to the acoustic tent. We were ahead of time and got to the front no problem, where we met several friends. And the E kicked in, and Julian Cope came on, and he was fucking awesome.

He came on with his orange and yellow hair and a guitar. Just him. And launched into Autogeddon Blues. Fucking hell, what an epic track, I just got lost in it for hours. And how totally fucking righteous. And he was writing these Car Culture songs way before it was a hip issue, he's so tuned in and aware. And he's one of a really rare breed of songwriter/musicians who have been going for years, yet are STILL FACING FORWARDS, whose new stuff easily equals the old, and yet who are at home with their back catalogue. Loads of people don't sustain, or else they just churn out the oldies (or things that sound so similar they might as well be the same oldies), or else they reject their old stuff. And there are reasons for doing all of those things, but I have such respect for people who started out with their vision and have stayed true. Not true to the original sound, but true to the original VISION. And they can still play the old songs even though they'd never write anything like that now, because they're true expressions of the same spirit. To name names, I think of Julian Cope, Tom Robinson, The Church, Cowboy Junkies

(these are just personal faves - there are many more).

Julian Cope is so INVOLVING, you really feel like you're PART of the gig rather than at it. And yet he takes you where he wants. He's so shining, so vibrant, he clearly doesn't feel under pressure to please or perform, which is what makes him deliver such a free, pleasing performance. It's such a strange blend of the deeply spiritual, the joyous effervescence, and a knack of incredibly immediate classic pop. The shiny beauty of The Greatness And Perfection Of Love, the majestic aching of Passionate Friend and The Great Dominions (another one I got lost in for hours), and the huge, brooding sweep of Upwards At 45 Degrees. Utterly captivating, dazing, uplifting. I've seen him a lot and never seen a bad gig, but this was easily the best I've seen. I know that a lot of the appreciation of bands at Glastonbury has nothing to do with the band - it's a lot to do with the weather, your sleep patterns, and especially applied chemistry. In 93 I had to lie down during the Velvet Underground - later I was dragged to Lenny Fucking Kravitz, and he was the greatest thing at the whole festival. The point is, I know a lot of how good Copey was on Sunday was to do with the drugs, but there were friends there in various states who were also really really blown away.

 

During his set he said that there would be no Glastonbury next year, because his standing stones book, The Modern Antiquarian, is out in October (at last), and we were all going to realise that where we live is so great that we'd not bother travelling the country just to go somewhere cool. Unless we live in East Anglia. It's a mighty book, well beyond a gazetteer, he's connected so many place names and common words with the ideas of the neolithic goddess culture, it will take your fucking head off. Really.

After Copey we wandered around and up to the Sacred Space, where the view out over the site was soooo pretty. There is a feeling that you get at Glastonbury on the Sunday night after all the big things have finished. It doesn't matter what the weather is or what drugs you're on, it always feels the same, and nothing else feels like it. It's a feeling of being immersed in something massive, and something that's wonderful, not for any specific thing, but just absolutely wonderful in itself. And although it's ending, there's no sadness, there's the feeling of having been charged up with it and that you're taking it out into the world with you. That it doesn't matter that half the world is turning into McDonalds, cos you're part of something a lot bigger, stronger and better than that. And there's loads of people feeling it just the same, and it's all very beautiful.

Up at the top of the Sacred Space, beyond the stone circle, was a bit where the mud was OK to sit on if you had something waterproof. We sat and watched it all until we got cold, then got a cup of tea from Ecotrip, where there was music and people in an assortment of altered states, then we went to bed.

At 9 the next morning we met the folks giving us a lift out of there. And all around the site were bedraggled people making their way home, and dotted around were people STILL DANCING to the few sound systems still going.

Normally you can't help but have a good time at Glastonbury. This year, the weather made it so that you had to work at it a bit, that's all.

 

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