I guess memories are wonderful things. I do hope I don’t get Alzheimer’s any time soon. I definitely know that tragedy. My mother spent her last years battling memories and fighting for too many that escaped. But, 40 years ago today, I was a week into my first trip to UK and stumbled, almost literally, onto a chance of a lifetime.
Traveling with a friend, we had been out and about, driving the countryside when we came to this delightful little town of Glastonbury. We began a walk up one of the many hills to see all the things pointed out on the tourist map. Now, let me explain that back in those days I was somewhat of a vagabond, and in the best sense of the word. I was 21 years old and on my first real summer adventure out of the U.S. Maybe it was something that college kids did back then. Maybe they still do.
Anyway, that was the year I fell in love with England and that was the year I knew I would do whatever necessary to live there for a few years at the very minimum. I was studying chemistry and physics at the university, but my first real love was English literature. I was so enraptured with Shakespeare that my trip was somewhat of a pilgrimage to see Stratford-on-Avon. But, the best laid plans….
My friend, Barbara, and I had decided to take in the southern part of UK before heading north. It just seemed like the way to start since we were already in London. That brings me to the trip to Glastonbury. If there has ever been one place on earth that captured my heart, it was Glastonbury. It was not a very large place, but the people were so friendly and so welcoming.
As Barb and I sat on a bench in a cow pasture talking to a retired teacher and watching her Irish Wolfhound taunt a couple of cows, she asked if we were going to “the festival.” That was the first we had heard of any kind of festival. Besides, in England there seems to be a festival of one kind or another everyday or so — and all are absolutely worth the effort and the time to attend.
Anyway, 40 years ago today Barbara and I attended the first Glastonbury Festival. It can best be described as the British Woodstock. It was fun, as best I recall. And, to be honest, I enjoyed it as much as I did Woodstock — and got just as wet and muddy.
So, here’s the thing about Glastonbury and the first festival. I knew I loved English literature, but experiencing England, even in a haze at Pilton, created a burning desire in me to move to UK. And, luckily enough, after I graduated university and started to work, I was lucky enough to work for a company that moved me to England for 8 years. How much better can life be?
Today I am thankful for wonderful memories that were created in Pilton 40 years ago. And, I am even more thankful for all the wonderful opportunities that one visit presented in my life in the years that followed.
