Why you won’t see me at Glasto

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SO, that’s Glastonbury done with for another year.

In fact, because the London Olympics has created a shortage of portable toilets in 2012, that’s Glastonbury done with for two years.

Good.

Not a fan of festivals myself or the over-exposure of them on our screens.

I spent years trying to enjoy, going along, always hoping I’d finally ‘get it’, always with fingers crossed I’d have that moment where it clicks, and you’re at one with the universe and... yadda yadda yadda.

Never happened, though.

Even when I was 18 and stupid (aye, as opposed to just stupid) I could never quite grasp what was a ‘good time’ about spending a damp weekend covered in mud and rain and, let’s be frank, other people’s excrement while dropping poor quality magic mushrooms all to make it bearable and hoping to cop off with some crusty who hadn’t showered in three days, all before – worst of all – watching U2 or Coldplay.

Does this make me a kill-joy? Does it make me dull? Does it make me simply a square?

Almost certainly. But I guess at least I’m a warm, dry square.

n ENJOYABLE hour talking to Andy Swinden for today’s main feature.

“I’m just going to a Doctor Who shop,” I told the features editor.

His reply? “I’ll expect you back yesterday.”

n OH, and Matt Smith, too young to be the Time Lord?

“Not at all,” says Andy. “I think people who say that are perhaps a little bitter they’re getting old themselves. The Doctor should be a little youthful so he appeals to kids.”

That’s that debate settled then.