It was one of those ‘I’ve woken up in a tent in a muddy field somewhere in my twenties and I have no idea where a safe toilet is‘ moments at Glastonbury festival. I have no idea what year it was, or even what I was doing near the cows considering we were camped on the other side of the site, or why I’d taken my camera along with me. I just know it was the morning and the place was an absolute mudbath and my wellies were giving me agony because they were way too big, but I’d finally found the cows, and that made everything okay. Everything else, it’s a mystery.

I must have had a good time then, right?


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