The idea was to go to Glastonbury this year and write a piece about the abundant and vacant meat consumption at the festival, something like this article that George Monbiot article wrote in 2015 and basically nobody listened to. However given that today’s anecdote largely revolves around me eating a sausage sandwich, I felt such a thing would be dishonest, and as we will see - I’m really not above anyone else or anything.
What a trip. Glastonbury, mushrooms, a masquerade, recognition, a lack of readiness, a moment lost in time…and an epiphany as earthy and sustaining as a dish of Baby Potato Curry.
What a trip. Glastonbury, mushrooms, a masquerade, recognition, a lack of readiness, a moment lost in time…and an epiphany as earthy and sustaining as a dish of Baby Potato Curry.