Glastonbury Catering
John Simpson liberating Kabul is often held as the romantic image of journalistic bravado. Or, to a less quixotic extent, Martin Bashir swallowing his vomit as Michael Jackson eyed an 8ft imitation gold sarcophagus from his ‘favourite’ store in Santa Barbara.
And while I have oodles of respect for the pair, I’d argue that putting your body on the line for five days at Glastonbury festival is potentially more harmful than all the snipers in Kabul and more nauseating than all the faux Egyptian ornaments a lunatic can afford.
In the times between music and drinking, it's prudent to try and squeeze in the occasional meal, however much your body wants to reject it out of hand. If you want to avoid the tinned ravioli then finding a decent food store is more of a gamble than opening a seasoned portaloo.