A mate induced a memory flash back, along the lines of:-
"Is anyone going into Brighton this weekend, if so can you nip into the Peace shop and get my Glasto ticket, don't worry if not, I might go in a couple of weeks anyway".
Ah happy days.
Yep. I remember that kind of thing.
It pisses me off these days - the ticketing arrangements and costs. I know it's still a good festival and all but FECK it reeks of luvvies and yuppies and posh Henry types. I had a backstage pass 2 years ago and the bars behind the Pyramid Stage were teeming with London media ponces in expensive clothes and whinnying 'received pronunciation' accents.
Quite put me off my Baby Partridge Ravioli in Gillot and Black Truffle Sauce.
Something has been lost.