All the Fun of the Fayre

Long involved with the fantastically successful Glastonbury Festival, Alister Sieghart looks back to its origins

It is the aftermath in 1979. I am seated in a tipi at Worthy Farm, the home of Glastonbury Festival, with perhaps 50 others, for a meeting to explain how much the event has made, and how it will be distributed. In a fit of deep wisdom, the finances have been entrusted to Straight Mick, a dope dealer from a London squat. In a short exposition, he reveals that there is, in fact, no money, and no one will therefore be paid. It seems too much has been spent before the event, much of it on, shall we say, “stimulating the imagination”, of the London organisers… Of course, with hindsight, I realise that the ensuing threats of violence must surely have been ironic, since this is the festival of Peace and Love. But how real and frightening they seemed at the time! It was then that Michael Eavis, the farm’s owner, who had put up his land as security against the festival’s overdraft, took personal charge. And ever since, his annual crop has showcased the huge potential in agricultural diversification.

A year earlier, I had travelled down with the beautiful (but a bit bonkers) Lucy from Stonehenge, looking for somewhere near Glastonbury where the People’s Free Travelling Festival could set up camp. We had selected a fine spot by the River Brue, and swung by Worthy Farm on the way back, finding Michael E, even then a genial gnome with his trademark bald head, milking his cows. And we assured him he could sleep safely in the knowledge that the festival would not be coming to his farm. But what is it about anarchists? They just won’t stick to the rules.

Against strict instructions, some campers had occupied the field ahead of the official People’s Free Travelling Festival Convoy. So it arrived at a site surrounded by police, who had, what’s more, come up with a wonderful idea of where to take them instead. Farmer Eavis, driving home, came up behind 50 large and battered vehicles with blue-lighted escorts. “I wonder where they’re headed..?” he mused.

The unofficial 1978 festival was a tiny, but potent event. It had a small, portable pyramid stage, there was mud, a thunderstorm, the last bolt of lightning hit the stage (and the pot-hook over the fire six inches in front of me); then some swear that the music just got louder and louder till all the fuses blew. After which the sun came out, with a massive double rainbow. And people started to think that maybe festivals could become a regular thing here. Of course, it all goes back further than that, mainly to 1971. A group headed by Andrew Kerr, formerly Randolph Churchill’s private secretary, and including the late Arabella Churchill, were looking to hold a festival around Glastonbury. They hit upon Worthy Farm, where Michael, like many other farmers around the country, had held a small event the previous autumn – £1 admission and free milk.

This group was much influenced by the writer John Michell, who had pronounced the town to be Britain’s New Jerusalem, being crisscrossed with ley lines and full of sacred geometry linked to ancient Egypt. (I am, of course, immune to such thinking – the reason I live at the foot of Glastonbury Tor is that there’s a huge magic crystal inside protecting me from CIA mind control and the World Government. And reptile aliens. And Gordon Brown, of course. But I digress.) Inspired by Michell’s ideas, the 1971 organisers held their event at the summer solstice, dowsing a spot to build their stage in the exact proportions of the Great Pyramid at Gizeh. “Glastonbury Fayre”, with top bands of the day, ran for an entire week in June, and was filmed by a couple of students, named Nick Roeg and David Puttnam. The rumour of “Britain’s Woodstock”, along with the movie, and a triple album released to pay some of the costs, together began to create the myth – in the best sense of the word. And it’s continued to grow ever since, as well as the theory that it’s not as good as it used to be, which I first heard in ’79. I’m convinced that in 40 years’ time, some old friends will be saying to one another, “Wow, remember Glasto 2010? Incredible! Of course, it’s all so much more commercial now…”

There are one or two things about the festival that aren’t so well known. For example, it’s the largest theatre event in the UK outside Edinburgh. With all the attention focused on the big bands on the main stages, a lot of people miss out on the extraordinary and diverse goings-on in the Theatre and Circus area. You can be sitting having a conversation when the cardboard box next to you, apparently a piece of debris, gets up and walks away on stripy legs. The policeman and woman in front of you might ask someone if they can “try some of that”, take huge puffs and start snogging. Or your children might be harassed by giant walking punctuation. Speaking of children, some final advice, from experience. Of course, Glastonbury is one of the safest places for them in the country, and the Kidz Field on its own is bigger than most children’s festivals. But if you have a child who is not yet potty-trained, do be very careful to ensure they’re securely nappied up at absolutely every moment they’re in your tent…

Tags: Alister Sieghart, Glastonbury Festival, Michael Eavis, People’s Free Travelling Festival Convoy

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