The Ned Wood Archive

Joe

After the Woods, she said she wanted to go up to the Park.  She said it was a magical place and she’d got fond memories.  He’d got out his folded Clashfinder sheet for the day and pointed out Mysterines and Sharon van Etten and said that he was up for those two if she was.  So they’d agreed.  They’d got a couple of hours before Mysterines, so they could take their time getting there.  He suggests they walk the long way round: across the top of Pyramid Field and down through the markets past Carhenge. 

They walk around the cars when they get to Carhenge. Is this what Glastonbury is all about? Not necessarily the bands, but the other performances and the other areas. Just strolling around or sitting around. Relaxing. Taking in the atmosphere. The peace, the freedom, the positivity. Joe’s walking round the artistically arranged motors and, in his head, there’s all these songs about classic cars and maybe also about outlaw cowboy bands but today, just this once, not kinda sorta wishing he was someone else. They sit down and watch the crowd pass and invent collective nouns. A banter of lads joshing with each other. A chafing of dudes in mankinis. A vigilance of young parents with kids in little wagons or connected by a rope or dog lead. A rejuvenation of older Mom and Dads. A coalition of teenage girls. And all of them having a good time.

“You know,” he says, “I’ve been coming here for over fifteen years and I’ve never seen a fight. There are places I know where you wouldn’t go fifteen minutes without some nutters getting into a brawl.”

“People just don’t get angry here, do they,” says Ellie.

“Just only Tom when you put a flag between him and the band he’s watching,” says Joe. He doesn’t tell her about the time he pushed to the front for Fontaines at William’s Green and someone shouted at him that it “was not a very Glastonbury thing to do.” That’s about the worst that’s happened. Yeah, he has heard of people getting stuff nicked from their tents, but only when they’ve left it lying around. He pats his pockets to make sure the important stuff – wallet and phone – are safe. He keeps them with him 24 7.

The nervousness he felt first thing has gone completely. Everything that’s happening seems to be happening naturally. Like, he finds it easy to talk with her. And something about the way she reacts makes him feel like he’s doing the right thing. Like when some teacher at school or some manager at the office had told him he’d done a good piece of work. But he’s not thinking about his job or next week or even tomorrow. If he’s thinking, he’s thinking about now. He sees a a place he knows selling banana splits just past Carhenge, so he tempts her with one.  So she says that she’s definitely buying dinner for him that evening.  She knows exactly where to go. 

Even after she’d said that she was moving to Italy it didn’t change things, If you’d stop and analyse the situation, you might say that would sort of put pressure on anything that may or may not have been about to develop.  But Joe tends to treat things as either going to happen or not going to happen.  By which he means they are pre-ordained.  Sort of.  Whatever will be will be.  Like, take life as it comes.  See how the cookie crumbles or whatever the saying is. So they can talk about Italy without getting hung up about Italy.   

When they had the ice cream, he told her she’d get plenty of good ice cream over there.  She already knew that.  She told him about her background.  She told him she was mixed race, too, she said.  Actually half English half Italian.  Mom is from near Parma.  Has a gran there.  Just outside Milan.  And now Ellie has a job there!  In Milan.  She’s going just after she gets back from Glastonbury.  So Glastonbury is her big farewell.  Not that’s she’s going to be gone forever.  She’s Brit right.  Has always lived here.  She just wants to know what it’s like to live somewhere else.  Joe can see that.  Makes a lot of sense.  He’d do it too, if he could. 

They stroll past West Holts.  There’s some dude playing African music on a Flying V.  Like Tinariwen, but a bit heavier.  They drift over and listen to a few numbers.  Joe really likes the stuff.  He checks his Clashfinder sheet and finds out this is Kel Assouf.  He’ll follow him up on Spotify when he gets back.  He points out the cider bar.

“Don’t ever be tempted to have more than one pint of their cider,” he tells Ellie.  “It’ll knock you out.”

“Thanks,” she says.  “I’ll remember that.”