There’s an unwritten Glastonbury rule that you just shouldn’t talk about the mud. But on a year like this, the site a shiny brown expanse, the calves throbbing with newly minted muscles, the mud is more than grimly fascinating – it’s entertaining too.
Rain in the run up to the festival, dry patches and downpours throughout and a hell of a lot of overnight showers have created mud that’s rich in character. There’s a type of mud that has hidden depths: that stuff that’s thin, soupy, beigey-brown, liquid in consistency. You don’t know what’s underneath it. Metal sheeting? A pothole? More mud? You must walk slowly through this one, taking baby steps, shielding your eyes as it reflects the sun harshly back at you with grim irony.
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But the prevailing variety of mud is claggy, thick and chewy, the kind that forms a vacuum around your footsteps. And near the Pyramid Stage, an evil bog of it wants to eat your wellies.
So voracious is this bog’s appetite that, after Wolf Alice exited the stage, a circle of spectators formed around it, watching, waiting, salivating with schadenfreude until the mire claimed its next victim, whooping with delight when it did. And you’d be surprised how many festivalgoers don’t see anything suspicious about walking into an ominously empty circle of nature’s evil Play-Doh. Click below to watch.
Hungry Mud wants to suck your wellies off your feet, and it will get its way. Rolling in the deep, indeed.
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