The Ned Wood Archive

Joe & Ellie

The echoes from Christine and the Queens float up from the Park stage then die down as the set ends to an enthusiastic appreciative roar.  Joe and Ellie sit side by side on top of the hill leaning against each other, relaxing, dreaming, loving, smiling as the night closes in.     

Joe feels jubilant. He wants to sing in celebration. He could run all night. And dance upon the architecture. Ellie can read his mind. She’ll come and take his hand so he can give the very best he can.

They drift over to Glastonbury on Sea, walk to the end of the pier, and look out on the world once more, the ocean in front of them decorated with pearls of light marking out each pathway.  They can see across the whole festival, the bright lights still burning where the action’s still going down.  Searchlight beams from Shangri-La break up the sky over to the right and, once or twice, bursts of flame shout out from Arcadia to the left.  The continuous Glastonbury rhythm throbs out from enormous speakers down town and from the naughty corner.  It won’t stop for a while yet.

“This is our world,” says Joe.  “I, I will be king and you, you will be queen.”

“Is that all we can be?” asks Ellie.  “Heroes, just for one day?

“Bowie wasn’t always right, you know.  Make the most of today.  Follow your heart.  Then worry about tomorrow when it comes.  ‘We can beat them forever and ever and we can be heroes’”.  

Well, Ellie believes that too.  She wants to follow her heart.  She’s just a little unsure how to do that right now.

“Come on,” she says.  “Let’s enjoy the rest of Sunday.  Tomorrow is just another dream.”

They leave the pier and walk over to the Stone Circle field.  There’s a fire up inside the circle and some random guitar strumming going on.  They go and listen for a while, the two of them leaning against one of the stones furthest from the noisiest group.  Gradually the numbers around the circle build as small groups arrive to spend their last hours there.  Around them conversations drift in and out of earshot and the scents of various flavours of homerolled smokes drift into and out of their noses.  There’s a different kind of peace up here this evening.  Some of these folk are settling in for the night.  Some will still be here come Monday afternoon.  Their peace is the respectful acknowledgement of both the tradition and the stamina required to follow it.

Ellie stands up and stretches.  Joe gets up and they stroll down the hill to the arch welcoming them to the Green Fields.  Just the other side is a stall that sells Glastonbury postcards.  It’s closed, but there’s a wee table outside with a couple of pens on it for writing the cards.  Joe borrows one and uses it to inscribe the happy face of a sunflower on his arm, inside his wrist, then shows his new tattoo to Ellie.  He tries to sing, he has the emotion but not the tune.

Still we sing with our heroes, 33 rounds per minute

We’re never going home until the sun says we’re finished

I’ll love you forever if I ever love at all

They dip through Green Futures and take the tunnel into the Greenpeace field.  They amble past West Holts and the tea bus then loop round towards the Circus Field.  The track is busy with folk heading over to the southeast corner.  The various stages of the festival have closed down for another year, so those still able to party are off to Shangri-La and the Common and Block 9.  

Campers laden with back packs struggle towards the exits alone or in pairs.  These are the people who need to be somewhere on the Monday so have rushed off as soon as the last note has been played by the last act.  Ellie doesn’t know why they have to rush off so soon.  It’s like leaving the game before full time.  Joe thinks they maybe have something more important.  She can’t see what’s more important than enjoying Glastonbury.  It passes through his mind that he missed Hamish Hawk for her, but he doesn’t say that out loud.  

As they walk, Ellie and Joe will stop and look into each other’s eyes, smiling at their miraculous fortune.  They’ll hug each other tightly at the wonder of it.  They’ll hold each other’s hands and cherish each other the way you’d cherish a beautiful crystal or a cute kitten or a vinyl copy of the first Murder Capital LP.  What they don’t do is talk about Monday.  It’s an unspoken agreement.  They’d swapped numbers as soon as they’d got away from the others.  They’d messaged each other to confirm that they’d got the contact details right, then they’d both switched off their phones so they could focus on each other.  Ellie’d noticed that they were doing the same things as each other without explicit agreement.  Reading each other’s minds.  Though she doesn’t think that Joe had spotted that that’s what they were doing.

Past the stripes of the Circus Tent they see a cacophony of spinning colour.  At the far end of the field, a hundred or more hula hoops are swirling, each one lit by bright colours, each one driven by a human waist or arm or leg.  They rush to join in.  Ellie’s eager to make one more joke at Joe’s expense, but this is one victory for Joe as he surprises Ellie with his new-found skills.  He’s determined to outlast her, but he never will.  His stamina is no match for her expertise.  They spin the hoops for what seems like hours until Joe has to concede, his energy exhausted, his back broken.  Ellie’s almost exhausted too.      

She’s already told him that she has to get up early, stupid early, the following morning.  And he’s already told her that he’ll come over to help her carry her stuff over to the coaches.  She’s getting tired herself, so he agrees to walk her back to her tent.  They stop over at the red tea bus for a nightcap.  They watch the continuous stream of people walking past, many of them still going strong this late into the night.  Joe’s got one more thing up his sleeve.  He makes a big song and dance about presenting Ellie with the souvenir fridge magnet he’d got her that morning.

“You know,” says Ellie, “these have been two of the best days of my life.  Friday and today.  I’ll never forget them.”

“I know you won’t,” says Joe.  “I won’t let you.”