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A letter just came for me at work. I opened it, as you do, and out fell temptation.
A press pass for Glastonbury Festival.
Not in my name, of course, in our photographers name. I could pretend to be called Alyson...
And then, within 30 seconds, my anti-camping defences kicked in, and the ticket became an evil thing. Which is handy, as I have no camera suitable for such an event. Plus the horrible toilet considerations and so on...
I'll go post this to the woman that *wants* to spend the weekend in a tent.. Mad. Really.
A press pass for Glastonbury Festival.
Not in my name, of course, in our photographers name. I could pretend to be called Alyson...
And then, within 30 seconds, my anti-camping defences kicked in, and the ticket became an evil thing. Which is handy, as I have no camera suitable for such an event. Plus the horrible toilet considerations and so on...
I'll go post this to the woman that *wants* to spend the weekend in a tent.. Mad. Really.
