Glastonbury 1998: Western Eyes

Yes, I'd fled by Sunday lunchtime, figuring that there was no point in staying on a site where you couldn't get from stage to stage without an hour of cautious shuffling, spending the day being miserable and wet and not being able to see the bands you wanted to - the new bands tent was constantly full of people who were just hiding from the rain.

The trains out of Castle Carey were full, too - the railway company had hopefully provided everybody with those little blue overshoes you get in model homes to protect the trains, seemingly oblivious that the large numbers of passengers clambering onboard were covered in mud from nose to toenail. And have you ever tried to pull an overshoe on a Doc Martin boot anyway?

To my dying day I will recall the toilets at Temple Meads, and the sweet joy of being able to come out with less mud on you than you came in with. I'm telling myself it was mud. Mud. Yes.

So, in tribute to Bristol, and the people of Bristol, and the sweet, sweet railway toilets of Bristol, here's Portishead doing Western Eyes.

[WARNING: quite stobe-filled]



[Part of Glastobury 1998]