One of my fave bloggers did a Glasto round up and I was all “skip to the end”… So.
The bands were very very good. I might blog more about that later.
The weather was very very hot (best weather in 33 years) and now it is pissing it down.
The camps smelled of pee.
My friend Ken is really cool to camp with and see gigs. Also we recorded a single together, free in the recording studio. He wrote it with no access to a guitar and we rehearsed in our 45 min slot. It is p. good.
I got called “a fucking whore” for refusing to be pushed out of the way after a concert.
I saw three films and a circus act.
I caught a summer cold.
I ate very delicious food.
Two men (independently of each other but at the same gig) pissed on me. They had waited a long time to get in the mosh pit and could not wait any longer. The first one got it on my arm and then just kept shooting a shit eating grin at me, as if it passed for flirting.
The second (Jonas from Cop Camp) was less lucky as he also got some Americans who were only there for the day (the plan had been to get to Berlin but they came to Roskilde instead), Paul and Nick went fucking ballistic and I averted an international situation by saying
“There are minimum standards of decency in public.” Uhuh…
“and IN DENMARK~ we do not piss on other people…” yeah, you’re right.
“So, Jonas, can you see how it would be a compromise if you moved a couple of feet to the left, away from us?”
While Nick and Paul played bad-cop by saying “I AM GOING TO CHARGE THIS GUY, HE JUST PISSED ALL OVER YOU.”
So, Jonas and his friends moved away.
Later in the week, in fact on the last evening, a man said “can you help me?” and when I said “what do you need?” he collapsed and said he was having an anxiety attack so Ken and I got him to safety.
Another guy collapsed in the Arena before Glasvegas and I woke him up paramedic style by kicking his shoes. Amusing how no one around him thought it was amiss.
“Is this your friend?” No.
“Did you see him fall down?” Uh. I think he’s sleeping.
“Yes, but there is a time and a place…”
I spoke Danish where I could and 25% of the time I was replied to in English. Maybe 5% of the time I was not understood at all. The best one where I was not understood was when I asked for Tuborg. I pointed at everything in the whole tent with the word on it and he still did not get it. And of course, he coached me in how to say it correctly and it was indistinguishable from the way I had said it.
Swedish people speak to Danes in English (and vice versa), this is very odd because I could understand the gist of the Swedish so why can’t Danes (and vice versa).
My favourite band were Madness, followed by the Deadly Gentlemen but Coldplay rocked my socks.