Now it’s over – No, I mean it’s really over. So please, now just stop it! More thoughts on the demise of a once great festival.

Glastonbury closes for another year, not to return until 2013.

But I’d sooner it didn’t. 

Billy Bragg defended it on Facebook saying that what you see on the BBC was the sanitised face, albeit covered in mud – sanitised mud. There was still the Leftfield and loads of great stuff still going on in this amazing city of tents in mud. And that may be true.

But I watched the audience – those revellers - when Beyonce was on.

For God’s sake Beyonce was on! I don’t need to justify my position by describing the commoditised pop-crowd – of course they were there – because Beyonce was headlining the final night. Surely that is enough. And Glastonbury revellers may say – “Well actually you had to be there because you know what?  Beyonce was really good!” And I say “Yes, well you would say that, Glastonbury reveller, wouldn’t you? I would rather be a doggy treat in a pen full of Pit Bull Terriers than be ‘there’”.

Glastonbury revellers are reflected in the BBCs pappy, pointless presenters. To quote, quite aptly, from John Osborne’s “Look Back in Anger” (No, slightly older Glastonbury revellers – not, Oasis!) BBC presenters, “You are sycophantic, phlegmatic and pusillanimous, do you know what that means? It means, Soapy, Stodgy and Dim” – you can work out who is who. Fearne Cotton has to be ‘Dim’ though doesn’t she?       

Billy Bragg said that people now see it as their annual holiday – Glastonbury camping for few days. So it has become the new Butlins. And you do have to “Book Early”! Actually that was marketing campaign for Pontins (which was the Hop Farm Festival of the Holiday Camp universe – not quite as big and flashy as Butlins but still at least had some integrity!) I always thought Fred Pontin had the moral high ground over Billy Butlin, and the biggest thumb!     

The other festivals springing up are becoming less generic. Now we’ve got Feastival to look forward to this weekend.

 Chefs!

Why not festivals featuring people from other professions – Bankers, Architects, System Process Engineeers? How about Priestival? Marine Biologistival or even a Festival Promoterstival.

Now allow me to rock slightly in this chair of nostalgia. *Gentle rocking sound eases into a rhythm*  

In my day, when it was good - remember I talked about this before? When young people who were young people when we were young people, were young people, it was better. It was though, wasn’t it?  

I guess you could say it is good that nowadays when some people at Glastonbury try to inflate a big balloon that told Bonio from U2 to pay his tax,  gangs of security guards appear from the shadows to prevent this terrible dangerous act and in the process beat up a few of these terrorists.

You could say this was progress. Things have changed. We can’t have people terrorising Bonio and publicising the fact that he moves funds around to avoid paying tax in Ireland? This guy is a Saint with all the charity work he does - regularly getting other people to give their money to good causes. You could say all this – and you probably would if you were Glastonbury reveller.

This guy could give all his wealth away right now and still be richer than most of us within a few minutes - certainly within the hour. That would be useful! Other than that, the only use for Bonio is as a healthy treat for dogs; rich, as he is, in marrow bone if not in talent. He contains vitamins and minerals if not managing to contain his own ridiculous ego.

 If only we could find a pen full of Pit-Bull Terriers!

Glastonbury of old [*the chair still rocks*] didn’t hire bouncers like this, and if there had been any, there is no way they would have managed to prevent the inflation of the giant ‘Bonio Balloon’. Even if it had been only 10 or so people instigating this act there would have been enough others who would have, on principle prevented the security guards from their oppressive activities. That’s the difference! Once free expression reigned – now you’re free to revel but within very strict parameters – there’s probably a corporate policy on it somewhere in a filing cabinet in ‘Eavis the younger’s’ bedroom next to a report on a new ‘branding’ for Glastonbury.

But the bands and the BBC crew remained quiet about the brutal actions of the Glastonbury Stasi. Stooges - along with all the bands who said nothing.

The BBC crew thought U2 were spectacular.

Coldplay was a “Triumph” according to Mark Radcliffe. 

It’s depressing. Let’s talk no more of the BBC coverage – that’s just a part of the problem. The conveyor of the brand.

So it’s, “No, it wouldn’t be Glastonbury without the mud would it?” Those very words are probably written on a page which has the heading “Branding Ideas – turn a negative into a corporate ‘kerching’”. Also on another page entitled –“Ideas for achieving corporate goal of market re-focus – subtle realignment of the brand”. And on this page is written –“Bland BBC presenters together with ideal mind-dulling line up – U2, Coldplay, Beyonce.”

And then on another page “The future – 2013: 3 nights of Justin Bieber!”     

Glastonbury - just another commodity

It’s “Festival Season”. It’s the big one this weekend. Glastonbury - now the most recognisable among the plague of festivals taking place all over the country. Hugh Fearnley Whittingstall is headlining one of them! I think he's going to start with some wild foraged mushrooms and save his 27 bird roast for an encore. But he really is headlining and there are other chefs on! There are Classical chefs, Rock Chefs, Dubstep Chefs- all the genres of Chef. In the spirit of all current festivals there will be special appearances from old re-formed Chefs you thought were dead. So two fat ladies are back, the Gallopping Gourmet and of course Fanny Craddock.  You thought they were dead didn't you. Oh no - just meticulously planning the revival tour.    

It was very different in my day. *Rocking Chair creaks rhythmically*

I first went to Glastonbury in 1986. It had already been going for years, since the early 70’s, on and off. But it did have the feel of something anarchic, and counter cultural.

Today’s Glastonbury strikes me as being a corporate, theme-park, media event based on the memory of what used to be a brilliant festival. It has been, unfortunately, the victim of its own success. Like so much art is. 

      

And this year they’re having U2.

It’s been building to this over the years. It’s been heading in this direction. Bonio gets to inflict his personality - if it can be, if only on a technicality, described as such - on the Glastonbury revellers. Isn’t that what they are now? Glastonbury revellers. Revelling away in some fields in Somerset. They used to be Glastonbury Hippies, and Glastonbury travellers, lefties, anarchists and ban the bomb weirdo’s. Now they’re “revellers”. “Tourists” maybe? Serial festival goers?

They’ve had Bruce Springsteen, Paul McCartney and a host of other old artists. In fact most years now it seems to be predominantly old or revival acts with a few modern pop stars thrown in. I know that on the smaller stages there are still good acts but they are more of a fringe thing now as the event becomes more mainstream, less radical, more corporate, less exciting - and attracts “revellers”.

It's all been absorbed. It's all been contained, sanitised and re positioned in the market; a subtley altered brand like so many other commodities. The festivals, the bands, the revellers - all commodities.   

The Dead Kennedy’s, way back in the eighties, wrote a song called Halloween. The lyrics are written below but with the word ‘Glastonbury’ substituting for the word Halloween. It’ a kind of heavy, punky song - if you don’t know it - like we used to have in the eighties, when it was proper Glastonbury, with proper young people like we used to have when we were young people. It's different now.

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gt-jnzlYNyM

*Rocking Chair continues to rock rhythmically to the song*

Glastonbury

Whatcha gonna be
Babe, you better know
And you better plan
Better plan all day

Better plan all week
Better plan all month
Better plan all year

You're dressed up like a clown
Putting on your act
It's the only time all year
You'll ever admit that

I can see your eyes
I can see your brain
Baby, nothing's changed
(repeat)

You're still hiding in a mask
You take your fun seriously
No, don't blow this year's chance
Tomorrow your mold goes back on

After Glastonbury

You go to work today
You'll go to work tomorrow
Shitfaced tonight
You'll brag about it for months

Remember what I did
Remember what I was
Back at Glastonbury

But what's in between
Where are your ideas
You sit around and dream
For next Glastonbury

Why not everyday
Are you so afraid
What will people say
(repeat)

After Glastonbury

Because your role is planned for you
There's nothing you can do
But stop and think it through
But what will the boss say to you

And what will your girlfriend say to you
And the people out on the street they might glare at you
And whadya know you're pretty self-conscious too

So you run back and stuff yourselves in rigid business costumes
Only at night to score is your leather uniform exhumed
Why don't you take your social regulations
And shove 'em up your ass
Why don't you take your social regulations
And shove 'em up your ass
Why don't you take your social regulations
And shove 'em up your ass

By Jove, Mr Gove. It turns out you're a State Apparatchik!

It's been a bit strange and quiet around the house this week as my son, Alex, has gone to Sweden with his school. I can actually get to use the computer! But I best make the most of it as he’s back tonight.
So I’ve been considering education. Alex’s school is an academy school that is now being run on the principles (supposedly) of the Swedish Kunskappskolen schools. So that's why they've gone to Sweden - to look at the real thing, without the suffocation of the heavy pillow of the National Curriculum.


Michael Gove made lots of positive noises immediately following the election about removing the state control of the curriculum, freeing schools to teach and educate without ministerial interference. He gave the impression that the days of targets, league tables, prescriptive inspection regimes, micromanagement from ministers, and the dull uniformity of the National Curriculum were to be consigned to the past as an historic example of New Labour’s obsessive command and control managerial style.
'Hooray', I thought when Gove said on the radio that there were no deadlines (just another form of target) for the implementation of free schools – they can take their time, decide what’s best for the children in their area. Put some trust in the teachers – they are the educational professionals, not ministers. Teachers, parents and children working together to do the best they could.


Yeh, right!


I was an idiot to believe, even fleetingly, that they were any different. These are just posher versions of New Labour. New Labour which itself had mutated and evolved into Thatcherism with only the last vestige of social conscience, and that was about to be naturally selected out of the New Labour gene pool due to lack of use.   

Gove has taken the New Labour fixation with targets, league tables and statist control, and fashioned it to his own prejudices.  Targets have not been scrapped, but been changed to fit Gove's own educational preferences.  So his English Baccalaureate now has targets that he prefers – they’re tougher targets too, so they must be better! [Targets are  instruments  which are arbitrarily devised and give control freaks the illusion of control but always make performance worse.]   

The answer to schools that don’t hit his targets is to close them and set them up as academies or free schools. And league tables stay. So schools are free to follow the new national curriculum (Michael Gove’s latest radical insight leads to the conclusion that History should be taught chronologically – because his daughter is confused by studying Vikings after studying the Tudors!)  

I get the feeling far from making education a more enjoyable experience he will preside over making it more of a stressful chore. We will churn out fewer media studies students because Gove doesn’t consider it a proper subject (and I can’t say I don’t have some sympathy with this) but will want more people schooled in Latin and memorising things he thinks are most important - learning by drill. Any joy that can be derived from learning will be squeezed out. It brings to mind the experience of Mr Polly in the HG Wells novel, where, following schooling:

“He thought of the present world no longer as a wonderland of experiences, but as geography, and history, as the repeating of names that were hard to pronounce, and lists of products and populations and heights and lengths, and as lists and dates – oh! and Boredom indescribable.”

I was having some fun with my son choosing incongruent adjective/noun or verb combinations. We came up with such combinations as ‘lovely bastard’, “a gorgeous stabbing”,  ’beautiful din’, and, borrowed from a classic comedy duo, a ‘fine mess’.  

On other occasions we talk about nanotechnology, the length of time light takes to reach us from distant stars, the struggle for democracy in the Middle East and all kinds of interesting things.

“Why don’t we learn about things like this in school?” he has asked on more than one occasion?

“Not on the curriculum.” I say, “It’s more important that you do the Tudors – again!”   

“Why is that more important Dad? “

“Because the Government says so son – the Government knows best.”

“But Michael Gove wants to change it doesn’t he Dad? He wants freedom for schools.”

“Well son, he wants freedom for people to pay less tax for schools. But he has different things he wants you to learn about – and in a different order. You probably get confused by studying ancient Egypt after you’ve studied the First World War – don’t you. Well Michael Gove wants to help you. No longer will children have to think that Vikings were more recent than Hitler. We should thank Michael Gove.”         

“Will we be able to do incongruent adjective/ noun or verb combinations – like ‘you marvellous bore’?”

“No son, he’ll only let you learn traditional things - so it’s only traditional adjective/noun combinations I’m afraid. He’ll probably ban Laurel and Hardy as distorting young minds.”

“Really? I don’t think I like him after all, dad. Not if we have to do traditional, congruent adjective/noun combinations ”

“Hmm – maybe you’re right.  Michael Gove is a terrible cunt.”        

Christianity, Paganism, Humanism or Bunnyism

....so I said I don't do drawings - and I don't. This is by my son. As you can, see it's Jim the magical bird singing to Jesus on the cross.
Then we have this.

This one is by my son's strange Uncle Chris. As you can see it's called "Bunny & Balloon with his mate, Death."

My son (his name is Alex) has been fascinated by Jesus, or more specifically, crucifixion since he was about 3 and watched an animated video of New Testament stories called "The Miracle Maker". Every Easter the video comes out and he demands to see various other versions of the crucifixion story. Most recently the "Last Temptation..." (strange film - if it were by anyone but Scorsese, I'd say it was crap) and "The Passion of...".  

I found this picture he'd done with Jim the magical bird singing to Jesus on the cross next to his Uncle Chris's picture of 'Bunny and balloon and his mate Death'.
I was struck by the similarities and differences between the two images, or rather between the stories they tell.
Bunny lives life succumbing to the temptation of balloon-based fun. Hedonistically playing as the sun shines. The pleasure seeking Bunny.
Jesus sacrificed balloon fun and instead gave his life to duty to God. He made the ultimate sacrifice of giving his own life for the sake of humanity.

But actually did he? Jesus was the son of God - he knew he would rise again. He can't be killed.

Bunny has his mate death hanging round just waiting for the appointed moment when he gets the chance to grimly reap. But Bunny has made Death his friend and ally.

That's why he's such a happy bunny - unlike Jesus.

Look at his face in the picture above.

Even with a magical bird singing to him he can't muster a smile or a nod of appreciation. You'll have to take my word for this as it is a drawing of a fixed point in time. He may have been just about to nod in appreciation. I'll grant that. But still he looks a right miserable git.

Bunny is contented. He knows he's going to die. It is the way of all things. Death is his friend keeping everything in perspective, meaning Bunny appreciates every living moment.

We can learn a lot from Bunny.

First Proper Blog

Thought I’d begin my blogging career with a controversial, hard-hitting, polemical piece. Start with a bang! So here it is - a mind-changing, wave-making thing.

Bow down to the Spud!

At the weekend a set of 100 postcards of penguin book covers came into my possession. Different series’ such as fiction, crime fiction, periodicals and handbooks are included in the set. 

The handbook series include such useful titles as: “Scootering”; “Keeping Poultry and Rabbits on Scraps”; and “The Art of Marriage”.   These are intended as guides to carry around and refer to when needed. So if you have a scooter you could keep this in your pocket or haversack and refer to it in times of need. If you have poultry and rabbits and were wondering what to feed them you could whip out your penguin handbook and get some guidance. Similarly if you’re in a marriage and your husband or wife is acting a bit surly, look it up in the” Art of Marriage” with advice on “all aspects of marriage”, which is appropriately written by Mary Macaulay a “well known doctor and  magistrate” - all the skills needed if things go pear shaped.  You’d carry this about your person throughout your married life safe in the knowledge that no matter what aspect of your marriage needs attention this book will have the answer.

 Other titles include: “There must be a Pony!”; “The Intelligent Woman’s Guide to Socialism, Capitalism, Sovietism, and Fascism”; “Thinking to Some Purpose” and “Common Sense about Smoking”. In the fiction range there’s

• ”The Case of The Half Wakened Woman” and
• “Still she wished for Company”.

These all intrigue me.

It leads me to ask a number of questions: 

• Why must there be a Pony?
•  Is there a stupid woman’s guide to Socialism, Capitalism etc.? If not is this discriminatory? What about intelligent men? Don’t we need a guide to Sovietism and Fascism? How is it likely to differ from the intelligent woman’s guide?
• Are there too many people wandering about having purposeless thoughts? Apart from me that is.
• Was the half wakened woman permanently half wakened? Or only at certain times - like when she was waking up? 
• Was 'She' unreasonable in still wishing for company? Did she already have 25 people round to her bedsit and it was getting a bit cramped, and so it made sense to really just call it a day in terms of inviting people round?
• I don’t know the answer to these questions. But that’s not unusual there are lots of questions I don’t know the answers to. It’s normal.

All this intrigued me, but what intrigued me the most was periodical called New Biology. On the cover is a list of articles, and top of the list is the startling title: “The Potato: Master or Servant?”  (Now you see what I mean by hard hitting!)

What could this mean? Initially I thought to myself, “I cannot conceive of any situation in which the Potato (whether it be in general, as a species, or any individual potato, no matter how ambitious or driven) could be, in their relations to me (a human), a Master.”  This is radical stuff, I thought.  I can see, at a push, how a potato might be my servant.  It serves me by acting as a pile of creamy mash or a plate of chips! I get that. But Potato as Master?

What kind of society would it be where the potatoes ruled? What style of government would we experience? There isn’t really anything to go on, is there? Nothing we can refer to and say, “Well, when they came to power in post Soviet Estonia they were fairly dictatorial, and what they did to the Beetroots was unfair, but we never went short of Dauphinoise!"
There isn’t any evidence, other than we do know that they are heavily surveillance oriented. [There is a bad pun there but I’m not going to say it out loud!]  What would the political elites look like? I imagine most working class spuds would take up jobs in the media, giving their account of political activities. Yes they would because they would be Political Common-Taters.
So I finish my first proper blog with a terrible joke after having only just said that I wouldn’t utter the heavy surveillance oriented potato regime pun. No discipline. I will leave you with that. The first person to talk about the potato monarchy (yes, think of the names of potatoes) wins......nothing but utter contempt! And since I just talked about it, I will self-contemptuously stop.