So in 2001, I wrote a post about how you could recreate your very own Glastonbury festival experience in the comfort of your own home.

Given that six and a half years have passed, and things have moved on a bit, and in honour of the festival’s arrival this weekend, I thought it might be worth looking at updating it again. So, building on the previous post, and without further ado, here’s

DIY GLASTONBURY 2007

1. One day in early Spring, phone a premium rate phone line, leave your phone off the hook for several hours while you so something else, before coming back to the phone, setting light to several hundred pounds and then hanging up.
2. Wait several months.
3. During this waiting period, bore every one of your friends rigid about the fact that you’re going to DIY Glasto. Ignore them when they appear to shun you: they’re happy for you, really.
4. Write your dream list of performers on a piece of paper.
5. Rip it up: they won’t be appearing.
6. Buy a copy of NME and/or listen to daytime radio. Select any 20 artists at random. They will.
7. Mask your inevitable disappointment, but console yourself with the possibility that there’s always the chance of Kylie showing up, remote as it may be.
8. Wait some more.
9. In mid June, start obsessively checking the weather reports. Take every mention of sun as an indicator that there’ll be a heatwave. Imagine every prediction of wet weather to mean slight drizzle, followed by sunshine. It’s June, after all.
10. Opt to buy suncream instead of waterproofs.
11. Duck out of work early on a Thursday, and then go and sit in your car for seven hours. Don’t go anywhere, just sit there. If you have heating, even better: whack it up to full.
12. When it gets dark and you’re nice and sweaty, go around to the back of your house and stand there for another hour, before flashing your photo ID at the cat.
13. Arrange in advance to have a friend distribute your furniture, posessions and various random bits of taut string around the house in your absence. Also, tell them to remove all your lightbulbs. Upon entering your home, stumble around blindly for an hour or so before you find your bed.
14. Insert four or five large rocks under your matress. Better still, remove mattress altogether and sleep directly on rocks.
15. Take an aspirin.
16. Wait for nothing to happen.
17. Go to bed.
18. Arrange for a friend to wake you up by pissing on your duvet.
19. Eat a mars bar for breakfast.
20. Go and stand outside your toilet for an hour and a half.
21. Use toilet (not paper)
22. Arrange for your friend to stand at the bottom of the garden holding up a CD jewel case of a band you aren’t really that keen on.
23. For true authenticity, arrange for another friend to stand directly in front of you and shout.
24. Put the radio on very quietly, and put it quite far away. Keep this up for six or seven hours.
25. Stand fully clothed in a cold shower for several hours.
26. Queue up beside your shoe-rack for an hour.
27. Stuff £20 into a crack in the floorboards in exchange for putting on some wellies.
28. Arrange for the garden to be covered in a 3″ layer of cold, muddy water.
29. Splash about in it for a bit until the initial excitement fades.
30. Queue up beside your kitchen cupboard for two hours.
31. Throw £4.50 in the bin, and help yourself to an authentic Thai meal (pot noodle)
32. Take an aspirin.
33. Wait for nothing to happen.
34. Arrange for your friend to accost you naked on the stairs and jabber wildly at you for an hour.
35. Stand outside your toilet for an hour.
36. Give up, go into the garden and pee under a bush.
37. Repeat steps 15-19.
38. Throw £15 into your neighbour’s garden. Roll up some bay leaves and sage in a Rizla. Light. Choke. Repeat.
39. Take an aspirin.
40. Wait for nothing to happen.
41. Go to bed.
42. Discover that someone (possibly your obliging friend) has pissed on your bed.
43. Sleep fitfully while your friend plays bongos two feet from your head and shouts “Oi-OI!” every ten minutes.
44. Repeat steps 8-15
45. Flush £8.20 down the loo and grab yourself an authentic organic Mexican Veggie burger (8 Linda McCartney Spicy Beanburgers, 99p from Tesco) (best served lukewarm)
46. Queue up beside your phone charger, while straining to hear a band you actually don’t mind too much playing somewhere very far away (a clock-radio on quietly at the bottom of the wardrobe works well for this).
47. After three hours, charge your phone.
48. Take an aspirin
49. Wait for nothing to happen.
50. Take another one.
51. Become amazed when you actually do start to feel a tingle in your toes.
52. Neck a bottle of White Viking Lightning Extra Fearsome Cider.
53. Find a puddle.
54. Dance in it for twelve minutes, even though you can’t hear any music from where you are.
55. Find a bush.
56. Throw up in it.
57. Eat an entire can of Pringles, reasoning that potatoes are vegetables and they might help balance your diet a bit.
58. Repeat steps 23-29.
59. Watch your friend (or other random person) twirl fire balls and/or juggle while wearing a jester’s hat and no shirt.
60. Say “wow”
61. Repeat any of the above steps.
62. Go to bed.
63. Discover that someone (probably you) has thrown up on your bed.
64. Sleep fitfully while your friend throws buckets of water at you, shouting “Glastonbuuuuuuuuuury!” every five minutes.
65. Repeat steps 8-15.
66. Rip £6.40 into tiny shreds in return for a plate of cold, congealed chips.
67. Repeat steps 16-24.
68. Go to bed.
69. Discover that someone (probably your friend) has stolen your bed, your clothes, and, in fact, everything you own.
70. Climb down the drainpipe and over the fence, and sleep in your car.
71. Wake up uncomfortably and then sit in your car for nine hours, with the heater on full blast.
72. Go directly to work.
73. Tell everyone it was great, but not a patcyh on ‘97/’99/’04 (delete as appropriate).