I first came to Glastonbury as a one-year-old in 1979. I don't remember too much, except that I saw the Only Ones on the Pyramid Stage and the fact my sister Lucie, then three years old, got lost.
The next time I came, I was 15. I decided to come on my own, because I didn't want to spend all my time waiting around for my friends. I took acid and spent the night running around quoting war poets and Shelley, attracting a large group of followers. I remember deciding to make an environmental tent - a tepee - and everyone was hanging on my every word.
I went to the festival a lot after that. My Glastonbury ethos was to go on your own with £60 rolled up in your paratrooper boot. I ate in the Hari Krishna tent and slept in Christian tent. I blagged some skunk from someone in there one year, then squeezed my way to the front of the Pyramid Stage to see Ray Davies. I heard the first two bars of Waterloo Sunset and then passed out. When I woke up, I was in the medical tent, talking to a policeman.
I love the diversity here. It's almost Dickensian. If you're thirsty for adventure and up for paying the price, it's a veritable Arcadia. Every crazy creed of England is contained here.
The first time I played the festival was with the Libertines on the Other Stage - but without Peter. I wanted it to be amazing, because it had always been my dream. Instead it was just very sad.
Today was Dirty Pretty Things Glastonbury debut and it was everything I had wanted the first time to be. It felt like the first time, especially as it was on the stage where I saw the Only One all those years ago.
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