Yeah yeah yeah I went to New York. My life has moved on quicker than my ability to blog about it. I am not heartbroken, although I DO prefer to blog in real time and not with hindsight (it is of no benefit I find). New York was…well, I am sure there are a million blogs about New York. Wait, I’ll check out a few recommendations for you link link link. I worked very hard at the UN (see some slightly more official blogging on the world bank site) and I bigged up the clients – actually, minor corruption issues aside, the UN IS pretty cool, and despite my previous rant on the likes of Clooney – I thoroughly approve of his Blue Hats endorsement.
So skimming briefly over New York here – it was mostly work; one groovy drunken night out in East Village with some media types who were impressed with the capacity of my pal from Kosovo to consume St.Vincents (girly gin based cocktails); a bout of shopping in a huge electronics store run my thousands of orthodox Jews; and a brief excursion to the apple store (where I narrowly avoided an encounter with Riana –a-a-a-a) suffice to say I DIDN’T make the most of it. Nor did I meet up with fellow bloggers as I hoped…I am beginning to wonder whether other Blogcatalog bloggers exist in real life, or whether BC run a cunning software programme which invents helpful friends for me and is ultimately designed to make me fork out money on domain names (it’s working so far). Sorry that’s a little unfair to Benny – I am sure he is no figment.
So that was New York and this is Glastonbury. Rock and roll. 3 days in the mud and sunshine drinking cider and feeling young at heart. Well…erm….sort of. My mum does kind of live in the village so I have to confess my nights were not spent under filthy canvas, but under fine linen sheets. And, I caught myself in work mode on more than one occasion making comparisons with El Fasher IDP camp in Darfur. The close proximity, the stench, the rubbish. They even have an annual arts and music festival there (I bet you didn’t know that). Clearly there are some obvious differences. Like war, rape, abuse, tribalism, abject poverty (as opposed to gross indulgence) and of course the residents aren’t able to stuff their cheap Tescos sleeping bags into the back of their Renault Clios and zoom home to the luxury of a hot bath. But one thing DID cross my mind. Why doesn’t Michael Eavis and his posse get involved in humanitarian relief? I know they raise millions for charity (Greenpeace, Oxfam, WaterAid this year- but with the exceptional ability to facilitate 180,000 people (not official figures, just a guess based on a rough head count after a few bevies), collect 800,000 million gallons of human waste from 2,500 toilets (ish), and operate a pretty efficient refuse collection service – I’d think the Eavis family would be pretty well placed to have the know how to offer emergency relief after eathquakes or other such natural disasters (or even man made ones). The healing field would be a great asset too.
Yes. I must have been really fun to be with. No wonder my teenage daughter decided to disappear with a couple of friends during the Hosiers just to annoy me. (in 900 acres forget needles in haystacks, think more needles in New York City).
This is the world’s biggest open air arts and music festival, ladies and gentlemen. But to say I got away from work and relaxed completely was probably a bit of a stretch. The Glastonbury experience with three kids and your mum isn’t traditionally rock and roll – but I tell you I had as much fun watching a man climb into a green balloon in the circus tent and seeing my son learn to unicycle as I did rocking to the Wombats (and the dulcet tones of Elbow, of course). And no, I didn’t see Jay Z, Biffy Clyro was a more attractive prospect at the time. The point is I was back in the land of my birth (ok…perhaps another slight warp of the truth – I was born and raised in inner city Bristol not the mysterious Vale of Avalon – but the cider is the same, my lover). And I haven’t failed to notice that the inaugural festival was held around the time of my birth. OK, now you know too much.