The quest for tranquility in the world’s least tranquil place can lead you to unexpected places. On a baking-hot Glastonbury day, I am sitting in a 90C sauna surrounded by 10 naked strangers.
My journey began on Friday. While Lorde is playing a crammed secret set at the Woodsies stage, I’m over at Humblewell – a somewhat smaller tent – with 50 people who couldn’t care less about the buzz. We lie on mats and parched grass, eyes closed, breathing deeply, legs moving in unison under the orders of the yoga teacher, Dina. A bassy soundtrack distracts from the many sounds outside competing for our attention. If it wasn’t for the bucket hats, you wouldn’t know you were at Glastonbury. I fold into a child’s pose and feel a deep sense of release.
