Glastonbury toilets

July 1, 2010

Ok, if you don’t want to hear about Glastonbury toilets, stop reading now. Soon I will write about pop, but for now it’s a quick toilet break. It won’t be nice. Stop reading if you are squeamish. What follows isn’t even toilet humour. It’s just toilet stuff. Are you still reading? Why? Stop now.

You may have been drawn into this post by the pretty picture above. Don’t be fooled. Even that is toilet related. I took the pic when my friend Ben needed to stop for a toilet break. Ben Norris, this man. He weed, I snapped.

Toilets at Glastonbury fall into two categories; those you wouldn’t dream of using and those you have to use. Within these two categories there are two types; portaloos with hand-pumped flushes and then large metal boxes raised high off the ground that let everything fall into a cesspit below. It’s the second type I’m going to concentrate on. If you are still reading I advise you to stop now.

Inside the metal cubicle is a wooden toilet seat. If you look into the toilet, and you shouldn’t, about ten feet below you will see a pool of all human life and colours. Well, not all colours. A mass of brown, yellow, green and red liquids and solids slushing away amongst debris such as toilet paper, wet wipes, beer cans, oh you name it. You’ll even see half-eaten snacks bobbing along.

Are you still reading? Here comes the shocker. As you stand there, waiting to wee, and if the muck pool is relatively unchurned, you will see a face reflected back up at you. Not your own. Nor some poor child who slipped in there. The face will be of the person in the cubicle opposite yours waiting to start their own wee.

It’s the worst mirror I’ve ever stared into. Far worse than the one in Snow White and not a patch on Candyman.

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3 Responses to “Glastonbury toilets”

  1. Stefing said

    I remember at the short-lived Phoenix Festival the mighty mound of poo being topped off by a used tampon – it didn’t look at all festive.
    At a summer house in Northern Sweden I had to use an outside toilet for a week, basically a small pine room in the air with a loo above a pile of sawdust-covered poo. Said room was delightfully decorated with informative insect identification posters. My arse never felt so vulnerable.

  2. Andrew said

    Simon, it does the pretentious middle classes good, to spend a few hundred quid on fancy wellies and second rate music. Living like tramps in tents is just a bonus. All to say “I went to Glastonbury”. Shame it didn’t rain like it usually does. Its a wonder you could shift, with all the BBC staff that descend every year to fawn over the pop glitterati. PS were “Living Like Tramps” performing this year?

  3. Liz C said

    Ahhh…. The memories came flooding back. It’s a long time since I went to Glastonbury…I think it was 1986 and 1987. The first time I went it was like a quagmire and I don’t remember the loos being too bad – think the weather was probably a bit cooler. But the second year it was very hot and sunny. We all got sunburnt – which was a bit of a bugger – since I’d phoned in sick at work. But the bogs were just as you described. I remember there being a lot of different coloured toilet paper down there as well. The stench was truly awful and quite a few people I know hung on till we got to the motorway service station on Monday morning…..How they did it I’ll never know. It makes you proud to be British.

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