I’ve made my annual pilgrimage to Glastonbury and am writing to you from a bus, in a field, with wireless internet. This year’s Glastonbury is going to be a Leztival, I’ve decided. And it’s requiring far less effort than I thought it would.
It’s only Thursday and they are everywhere – mostly in pairs, which are mostly matching. At first I was going to start a photo record of sightings, but given the way I’m going I’d be out of film by Friday. I’ve seen so many lesbians at Glastonbury that I’m almost bored of them already.
So I’ve decided to do what anyone with a boring script would do – that is, create sub plots for my story. That’s why I’m taking notes on the hotspots – i.e. those areas with the highest levels of sightings. Let’s call them Hives.
Question: What do you get if you put a woman with a chainsaw in the Field of Avalon? Shapely tree stumps and a lot of men. And fucking hundreds of lesbians!
“Charlie Dimmock’s got nothing on her,” was one of the more polite comments I overheard while watching my first display of chainsaw tree sculpting. Picture a well built woman in jeans brandishing a fucking huge motorised saw, carving up tree stumps like they are pieces of cheese.
I’ve always been slightly bemused by Charlie Dimmock’s popularity, as neither gardening nor Groundforce are particularly cool. Yet her calendar was in the top 5 bestsellers last year.
However, seeing a girl with a chainsaw artfully chopping up tree trunks has opened my mind. Now I’ve seen the effect a bit of female muscle, sweat and sawdust can have on male festival goers, and lesbians.
It’s not really my thing, but I sort of get why it might appeal. Chainsaw Charlie almost had me mesmerised for a moment – until I remembered the task at hand. Hives.
Observing the Dimmock effect in real-life rates as one of the funniest things I’ve seen at Glastonbury. A mixture of wonder, fear and longing evaporated from the huddles of open-mouthed lezzers who seemed to be rooted to the ground around the open-air studio.
I heard one man offering encouragement, with a hearty, “Go on, girl.” Another one muttered, “That’s one way to get away from the kitchen sink.” All that vocal sexism and chauvinism would have bounced off her industrial strength earphones, but she wasn’t wearing goggles so would have to be blind to not notice how many Wah Wahs she was attracting. I’ve officially found my first Hive.