and press passes! BLOOP… I’m going to Glastonbury.
My virginal body shall be offered to the festival gods in the name of journalistic integrity and all I ask in return is for some sunshine.
In two weeks I’ll be there, pitched, purposeful and partying, poised to discover a messy, colourful, crazy Mecca at the end of my own little festival Haj. It’s only taken 28 years.
In other news, I’d like to say thanks to all of you who provided no help whatsoever in my quest to make perfect tapioca pancakes. Your disinterest/inaction/befuddlement has, on one hand, given me little hope in the overall mission, my chances of perfection in the task assigned now hovering around slim to none. And on the other – fortified by my worrying obsession with Brazilian ebay clips teaching me, via various Mamas in various headgear, how to make the bastards – made me more determined than ever.
Ha. So there.