The Earth Father

Getting the ticket early in the carpark, I used their toilet block. As I closed the door, piped music started and a recorded voice whispered: "Welcome to this toilet facility. This toilet is protected. You have fifteen minutes available until the alarm sounds. You will be warned when your time is up." The music continued, an insistent beat that slowly increased in tempo and frenzy as I struggled to complete before my position was broadcast to the outside world. It was unbelievable pressure.

Ann rarely has breakfast, so I ate alone - except for four German visitors, big in stature so they overhung their seats, and loud in voice and clothing, filling the room with their strident talk. When they finally left, a woman on the table next to me said, "Isn't it quiet?"

Ann at Glastonbury Abbey

Afterwards, we visited the Glastonbury Abbey ruins, the legendary site of the tombs of King Arthur and Queen Guinevere. The whole area was so quiet and peaceful even with traffic on all four sides of the walls. I bought Ann a figure for her room I called Gandalf, but was assured it was really Merlin. Ann is more Arthurian than Lord of the Rings, and in Glastonbury I was clearly out of place to bring up a rival to the mystic throne.

Waiting for Ann later in the Excalibur Cafe, I ordered a latte, forgetting that it is a vegan cafe. "Would you like hemp milk in that?" the barista asked. I made the mistake of choosing to experiment. If ever you are asked to choose hemp milk, take the coffee black. It tastes like old hemp rope, rough and unpalatable, and left its vile presence for the remainder of the day.

Glastonbury

Freedom,
is a Glastonbury wind
fuelling lost
hippie daydreams,
a magical mystery
brought from Arimathea,
Arthur with Guinevere
tables we all sit round
and, an awakening
touching souls
scarred by pain
cauterised
to soar again

Annie Elliott 

I have decided that, in the pantheon of legend, I am the Earth Father, though Ann says I am more like the Earth Grandfather. In this guise I sought a new leather belt to replace my cracked and fraying old one, but most of the shops in Glastonbury are so ethnicy and vegan that they shun leather goods, preferring to deal in wool, hemp and cotton. I did discover one leather shop, though their belts were standard plain leather and buckles rather than anything reflecting my new image. Needs must, however, before my pants fall down.