Week 26 - Saturday II

Week 26

Glastonbury – Saturday Part II

“One, dau, drei, quarto, cinq, VI, buzz!”

Like U2 and Paul, Coldplay and Chris Martin, are loved and loathed in equal measure. While Paul is viewed as a sanctimonious megalomaniac, which is apparently a bad thing, Chris is seen as a bit of a dull sap, which is apparently worse. Personally, I couldn’t care less. He was a perfectly charming front-man throughout their performance, thanking the crowd and seeming genuinely thrilled and honoured to be headlining for the third time.

The theme tune from Back to the Future played as the band took to the stage, and they opened with a new song, while fireworks shot up dramatically by the side of the stage. Yellow lights heralded ‘Yellow’ next, which would only have been better if any of the stars Chris was singing about were actually visible, but ‘In My Place’ which followed has never sounded better. Before playing another new song Doc Martin asked the crowd to forgive them for playing a few new ones “One day they’ll be your favourites, tonight you might think, what the fuck?”

Although they did play a few more new songs, they were lightly peppered amongst hugely popular older ones, which were all deeply embedded in the crowd’s collective mind, whether you liked it or not. There was a mass sing-along to ‘The Scientist’ before my personal favourite ‘Shiver’ which Chris revealed was the first song they ever played at Glastonbury. ‘Violet Hill’, ‘God Put a Smile Upon Your Face’ and ‘Everything’s Not Lost’ were all well received, and there was an endearing cock up during a slow new song, that a cynical man might suggest was staged, because it was staged.

‘Politik’ was another outstanding moment, but didn’t compare with the reaction to ‘Viva La Vida’ which prompted singing from the crowd that evoked memories of ‘Tender’ from Blur two years ago. ‘Life is For Living’ would have been a pretty underwhelming finish, but there was always going to be an encore, and it couldn’t have been much more impressive, after all, nothing else compares to ‘Clocks’, except for what followed. Chris Martin channelled Louis Armstrong, singing ‘What a Wonderful World’ with a slightly less gravelly voice before a momentous performance of ‘Fix You’, which he said was for his sister, bless him. How could you dislike the lovely boy?

They finished with their new single ‘Every Teardrop is a Waterfall’, which was enhanced by an incredible light show, involving the Pyramid turning just about every colour of the rainbow. Paul would have been hugely jealous.

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Barlow fortuitously bumped into the other Newton Faulkner fan at the festival, and disappeared, while The Wiggler and Candy had disappeared to the loo together. Meanwhile, Flapjack had opted for The Chemical Brothers over Coldplay who he despises with vigour, so we regrouped back at the tent. Cousin Bish was shattered after covering a huge amount of ground without hat or hair to protect him from the Sun, so he retired to bed.

 The rest of us played our old favourite drinking game Buzz*, with an intriguing twist.

*What is Buzz you ask? He’s Kevin’s brother in Home Alone of course.

Any language was acceptable, which gave Sandro and I the perfect opportunity for some creative thinking. However, the bilingual T-Reez was clearly a Buzz expert and impossible to catch out. Unfortunately for Little P and Candy, the opposite can be said for them, and catching them out was like taking candy from a baby (which Candy frequently does, hence his nickname).

Although, K-May was desperate to join us on a trip to the Park, P. Mushy was keen to put the health of their baby first, so he knocked her out and left her in their tent, while the rest of us took Buzz on the road. Little P shared her endless supply of glow sticks, and we had a ball at the Silent Disco, where we danced majestically (well, Candy didn’t) and sang along to classic anthems by legends like Chesney Hawks.

The Silent Disco didn’t close until after 4am, which of course, was far too early to go to bed. The sky was brightening when we returned home, and T-Reez shared some of the finer elements of the German language with us, which an intelligent and handsome chap was considerate enough to then repeat loudly and incessantly, much to the delight of the semi-conscious K-May, whose unborn child then told him in no uncertain terms, to “Shut up, you piece of scheiße!”.

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To be concluded. . .