Glastontelly // Why camp out in a muddy field when you can watch from the comfort of your sofa?

No expense spared here at Le Blow; always at the cutting edge of the coolest events, surfing the zeitgeist, living the dream… therefore I’m proud to present the highlights of the world’s original and – lets’ be honest  – premiere music festival.  From my sofa.

What we did

We laughed, we cried, we bounced, we stamped, we swayed, we put our hands in each others faces, we drank too much cider, we cried again, we ate a LOT of beige food, didn’t wash and we got sun burnt. And all within one mile of my bed. WINNING, anyone?

What we wore


Bikini tops/ fringing/ FAR TOO MANY STRAPS (as is now GLARINGLY APPARENT with the Brit-on-tour tan lines… gah!), an array of Ray-Bans (mostly due to sitting on a few pairs – RIP aviators, you have served me well), denim cut offs, lots of bangles, even more feathers and a safari’s worth of leopard print hair bands and various head accessories (also known as hats) to draw attention AWAY from Day Three Festival Hair.

Who did it best?

Fearne Cotton


Coiffed beyond belief (I swear I saw a lackie licking a stray splat of mud from her calf at one point). She opted out of the Stig-of-the-dump-festival-Shakira style (WHAT? I am a firm advocate of this look. See above ‘what we wore’ feather and leopard print ahoy, Ke$ha would be proud) and instead rocked a floral midi (HAWT), and block coloured bloussant… and being a fan of the ‘batty aunt’ look also, she gets two thumbs up from me.

Jo Whiley

Kept it simple in an array of Rocky Vests (as in featuring a tiger, not a boxer. That would be awkward), and glamming up for Beyonce on the Sunday eve, in a slinky little coral number. Ooooh get you.

Lauren Laverne

Ahhh Laverne, my favourite. And not at all cos I look a bit like her. Nup. Definitely not. She wins the award for Best Dressed Presenter (yep, that’s a real award. IN MY MIND) with an array of florals-with-a-casually-layered denim shirt, a cheeky red lace number (YES LAVERNE, YES) and deckchair stripes-a-go-go (ahh, Le Blow Ed, Natalie WOULD approve!). Effortless yet indie chic. Loving your work missy. Can I be you?

Who we saw (on the telly)


Jessy J

Was bloody great. Man that girl has lungs. AND instead of letting a broken foot hinder her performance, she just belted some serious tunes in a monochrome catsuit from a fuck off great throne in the middle of the stage. BIG TIME. Cos that’s how she rolls. Like a dude. Now it may have been the four ciders consumed before midday, but I had a genuine moment when she pulled  a small-yet-utterly-cool-and-street-cred-enhancing child from the audience to sing the rap to Money. Jessy J? Yes. I want to be you. But can I keep my own face? Is that ok? Excellent.

Friendly Fires

Were the ABSOLUTE SEX. The sun came out. Ed wore the most impressive Hawaiian shirt ever seen to man. Wiggled his (most excellent) little ass off, shook his (hopefully not so little) cow bell and rocked our socks off. Highlight of the festival was Hawaiian Air. HOW do I get a job as a Friendly Fires Hawaiian backing dancer? HOW?!

Kaiser Chiefs

Absolutely KILL IT. Every time I’ve ever seen them/ heard them, and this was NO exception. Hats off gentleman, you had us dad-dancing to the max. And loving every bloody minute of it.



We KNEW she would. She’s Sasha bloody Fierce, how was she not going to blow our tits off with her shiny, swishy, bouncy, belty, sequin clad-assed excellence? Beyonce owned the pyramid stage, and with covers of Eta James, Kings of Leon, Eurythmics and needless to say we LOST OUR SHIT when she bust out the Alanis Morrisette as well as a MEGAMIX (oh yes I did) of her hits.

Cue an extremely awkward cameo from Tricky who proceeded to touch her. Breathe a bit, then leave  prompting my favourite Twitter quote EVER ‘nice of Beyonce to invite her dealer’. Another Gwyneth and Jigga love-in (she’s just so relevant and down with the kids now…) and my personal, most emotional moment: when Wayne Rooney’s MASSIVE MOON face appeared behind her while she sang Halo. All hail Beyonce, Queen of Glasto.



We watched for like five minutes, when we got so drunk we lost the remote. Then we found it. And turned it off.

Paulo Nutini

Ohhhhhh Paulo. Paulo looked cute, had had a haircut for the occasion, and definitely had us shimmying around the field (lounge) if only he would not make that noise. THAT one. The one that sounds like he’s vomiting up a cat. And he needs Fearne Cotton’s lacky to wipe the white bits of spit from the corners of his mouth because that is NOT WHAT HD WAS INVENTED FOR. Jeez.


Were great. Really. Only there’s one problem. They’re still Coldplay aren’t they (which, by the way, is my new favourite insult: ‘well, she’s alright, she’s just a bit Coldplay isn’t she’)? And no I’m not jumping on the ‘everybody hates coldplay’ bandwagon, it’s just that y’know. They’re just a bit Coldplay.

The most interesting part of the performance was trying to figure out why the stage was covered in  Post-Its and scrap paper, and why instruments had been graffiti’d all over? Had they come straight to Glasto from a team away-day?  Had they been brainstorming ways not to be so GOD DAMN COLDPLAY?!

I did, however, thoroughly enjoy a cut to the ‘pit’ to witness a rather awkward love-in between Jigga and Gwyneth. Sure.


My favourite thing about festivals is discovering new music. Now, these may not be new to everyone, but they are to me, and these were my favourite new discoveries at Glastontelly 2012:

Janelle Monae

Cool as a cucumber. In a cape. And a shirt. And braces. And Brogues. In 28 degree heat. Absolutely awesome. I definitely want to be you. And your face is WAY better than mine.

Everything everything

Check these guys out, seriously. Caught them by accident on the John Peel stage while we were walking to the East Dance village (from the kitchen to the bog) and they were BLOODY great. MY KZ YR BF is a personal fave of mine, and those kids know how to rock a boiler suit.

Aloe Blacc

I’m a big fan of the album but this is the first time ive seen him live (ahem, through my telly box) and he did not disappoint. Smooth sexy tones, and perfect for an afternoon of awkward white-girl shoes-off grinding with a tangle twister in one hand, and a strangers ass in the other (I would like to take this opportunity to apologise to my flatmate for substituting her for the role of ‘stranger’ through this performance).

I have IMMEDIATELY booked tickets to see him at Somerset House next month and suggest you do the same (spesh if you are a hot stranger with an ass who would appreciate being grabbed with a non ice-creamy hand)


A four piece band we’ve been talking about for a while (see this post) whose cool punky, yet sultry dreamy vibe really appealed on a dusky evening at the John Peel stage. Oh, and did I mention they are all girls? Kicking the girlband concept up the ass, they are cool as fuck (have excellent hair) and we love them.

Go team

Crazy in the mannor of CSS, sexy in the manner of Beyonce, and cool in the manner of Hot Chip. LOVE LOVE LOVE.


Other weekend highlights included Kate Moss getting turned away from the secret Pulp gig (HA), Ed Sheeran performing 68, 000 times (and making us love him a little bit more with every one) and ‘THAT’ photo of two, um ‘revellers’ indulging in an act that not only was unsuitable to indulge in on the floor, in broad daylight, in the queue for the food stalls but AFTER 4 DAYS OF LIMITED SHOWER FACILITIES AND RECORD BREAKING HEAT.  If you haven’t seen it you will have to use your imagination, as I will not elaborate any further, this event will only be referred to as GLASTO GASH.

Next week, Wimbledon from my nan’s garden, and the second Olympic ticket draw from my 5 year old niece’s birthday party. Rock n roll people, rock n roll.

Amy Rycroft


  • Comments

  • Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *