A strange time.
On Monday I returned from what was one of the more surreal experiences in my life to date. Jon, Callum, Saul and I ventured to Glastonbury festival to pick up shit off the floor for 6 hours a day in exchange for a free ticket.
To be honest, I don't know why we ended up doing the shifts; it was merely a way in, and our initial plan was to stick the middle one up at the rota. I guess the prospect of getting 180 quid back swayed us somewhat, I'm not so sure.
So yeh, the last time I picked up litter was on detention at school. This was a lot harder; we didn't get one of those litter picking stick things, rather, a pair of gloves. The work therefore consisted of standing in a line, bending down, picking all the shit up, stepping forward and repeating the process for 6 hours.
Despite the physical strain, our work had an overall effect on the general festival mindset. The main issue was time. A music festival is, in my opinion, the one place where time should be completely obsolete, save the schedule for bands. However, having to get up at 6am everyday accounts for a different slant on the festival experience.
The scariest part of the litter picking experience for me was the wall. Our supervisor, who has picked up shit off the floor at over 60 festivals per year in her time, warned us comprehensively of the wall.
The wall is basically when you are standing at the foot of the malaise of paper cups, food trays, plastic bottles, cans and cigarette butts and you are unable to think.
Rather, you are just standing there, staring at the litter. It swallows you, completely overwhelming you like the biggest orgasm imaginable. However, rather than ejaculate, you just tend to start crying a little.
The wall usually happened midway through the shift, just as the searing heat started to beat down upon us. Luckily, I managed to take a step back, drink some water and do my best to overcome the wall, and we still at a good time. A funny experience none the less. Here are some photos.
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