Glastonbury and while we’re sure you’re incredibly sad you’re not bopping along to the likes of Kendrick Lamar or Noel Gallagher, spare a thought for the hundreds of volunteers denied the privilege, nay, the honour of cleaning up after 200,000 of us.Let alone those tasked with the job of cleaning the toilets.Ah yes, the famous green, steel long-drops of Glasto – you can see them now, can’t you?From the squeaky doors giving us the kind of ASMR we didn’t ask for, to the sweet, sweet aroma that fills the air, wafting to a 20-metre radius from day two.
There’s nothing quite like the kind of bonding that goes on with your fellow man, waiting for a bunch of drunken punters, fresh from a sweaty sesh at Shangri-La, to do their business in between.
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