Never work with children or animals, and luckily I was due to work with neither so felt pretty safe, we had arranged the team weeks in advance. Everything was planned, the G-Man was coming out from behind his desk, Schwin was coming too and myself. So all in all a good team, I had arranged for one of my friends to meet me there and had arranged a lift for another in exchange for some wristband distribution. Fine, everything was fine, then of course came the phonecall. G-Man was down, we needed emergency crew. This news in and of itself was not disastrous but for some reason one thing then led to another. Suddenly my phone charger wasn’t working and I forgot my pillows when packing the van all these things I realised as I went to settle down enroute to Norfolk at the side of the mainline train tracks running into Euston London. Its only when you are trying to get to sleep do you hear the trains…..;)
After a fitful night sleep we loaded the van with wristbands, topped up the leisure battery for the tunes and set off for rural Norfolk, not knowing where we where going as I had also forgotten the satnav too, I had to rely on Jack-Ass to give me directions off his mobile phone, which was coming into and out of consciousness, much like its owner. Off we went up the M1 missed the turn off and ended up maybe 30 miles out of our way, realising our mistake we turned round and headed for Kings Lynn.
For those who don’t know Glade Festival is actually held on the grounds of a rather grand country estate not too far from the Queens official residence at Sandringham. Deep in the rural heartland of Norfolk. Heading directly there, pausing only to gather a sacrificial glass bottle of wine, we trundled onto the festival site and were immmediately met with the “Search Team”.
These couple of likely lads had one thing on their minds, glass bottles full of spirits. “We are looking for alcohol mate” said Baldy, his companion furtively trying to look through my drivers window “strictly no sprits and no glass and only 12 cans of beer”. “OK Buddy, you want to look in the van?” I led him round to the entrance to the van, swung it open and they were greeted by the van chock full of camping equipment and all the stuff we had brought with us.
“Oh right well how much beer have you got?” said Mr Furtive…
“I have a couple of cans mate, was hoping to buy most of it on site” I lied fluidly.
“Got any glass?” Baldy asked, making a show of looking round. Time for the sacrificial wine “I’ve got a bottle of wine mate, but surely you are not going to take that off me?” I pretended to weasel, knowing full well – rules is rules!
“Sorry mate rules is rules, you will have to give it over”….
“OK” trying not to smile I reached into the cab, brought out my wine, decanted it into a plastic bottle and gave it over to Baldy. Judging by the look on his face he was being paid a reward per glass bottle seizure. No Worries ;).
Released by the Search Team we proceeded to swiftly set camp, a few tunes were placed on the sound system, everything was set up. Reaching into a hidden compartment I withdrew my bottle of Mount Gay Rum trying hard not to jingle it against the bottle of Jaimesons or disturb the 48 cans of Stella Artois…..Pouring a generous measure of rum to an equally generous measure of Jamaican Ginger Beer, I settled down to plan the on coming event, after all rules is rules………to be continued.