It’s hard to put into words what Glastonbury was for us last year.

I tried to give myself an excuse to sit down and do it, but I never found one. It’s hard for me to tackle something just because, but I can’t go on living without doing it. 

The truth is, by the time I got home after the festival, it took weeks—if not months—to recover.To get over the post-Glasto blues, to allow my body to rest after the intense neglect and demands I put it through. To come down from Cloud 9 after having a life-long dream come true. It’s hard to steer and regain purpose when you reach your mountain. I slept for three days. I focused on getting back to work and regulating myself. All my ADHD symptoms were unhinged. I hadn’t slept, eaten, lived in reality—let alone sustained a routine—in a week. And that’s without counting the endless days and nights I spent preparing myself prior to the festival. Detailed schedules, meetings, emails, outfit trials, Excel sheets, packing lists, carrying stuff, camping gear, choosing the right equipment—I could keep going forever. I’d actually been preparing for it my whole life. There’s no way to describe the heavy weight on one’s body. I slept for three days and lived on autopilot for the following weeks.The sun, the running, rushing around, the social interactions, the loud, constant, lingering noise. The cold of the night when you’ve left your coat at the tent. The long hours jumping from pit to pit, three songs to the next three songs, without eating or drinking water or even thinking—fuelled only by some kind of endless adrenaline that gets recharged over and over again by the shivering you get from the speakers when you stand right in front of them, waiting for the band to come on stage.I’ll never forget the feeling of all the cells in my body moving at that first chord—the very first one of a guitar during soundcheck. My first time wearing the authorised vest at the Other Stage. The Stage Manager recommending us newbies put our earplugs in quick. Because it’s about to get loud. Louder than you’ve ever experienced.

My whole body still remembers that very second when it was obvious—I’d made it. Right there. The best seat in the room. The spot I pointed at during a Backstreet Boys stadium concert when I was twelve years old.
"There. That’s where I want to be. Right there."