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Waking up cold, wet, empty and isolated at Glastonbury: the morning after the referendum.

Waking up cold, wet, empty and isolated at Glastonbury: referendum thoughts the morning after.

I’m at Glastonbury Festival, surrounded by friends. Serenaded by the dulcet tones of Wesley Gonzalez, we sway and move together in the fading Thursday evening sun - this is our chance to escape from the monotonous, loveless 21st century lives we lead. It is our vacation to the kind of warm and progressive reality we dream of. A reality where our relationships are valued, when we are encouraged to be conscientious and give a shit about one another. I love Glastonbury. Looking out over the Park Stage, I see a meadow of radiant expressions; couples arm-in-arm and old friends retelling old stories as new ones come about. This is the country I choose to live in: a world worth embracing. It’s enough to send you to sleep with a smile on your face.


I wake up, and it’s cold. The news hits each of us like waves the moment we open our eyes – something is wrong. The bones are brittle and cold, the love has dissolved, and we’re hollow. Our nation has taken a dive into the enclosed, xenophobic unknown. Just sacks of meat wrapped in plastic. I've been through a lot of different emotions and feelings at Worthy Farm, but never one quite like this. It just makes the whole progressive, liberal paradise seem, I don't know, fake. 

Where has the Glastonbury of yesterday gone? I want it back. I want our unity back, our country back, because today we have woken up in a different world. A colder, crueller one. Things will never be the same again.

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