For someone who gets lost on the way back from a restaurant bathroom, the 364-hectare (900-acre) sprawl of Glastonbury is a navigational nightmare. I’ve been to the festival three times, and between the music and the drinking I’ve always been glued to my phone, risking a rolled ankle as I hurry along, staring at the site map on the app and racing to recorrect my route to the shows. Losing power or losing my phone hasn’t ever seemed an option here. Without it, I would cease to function.
But perhaps, at the ripe old age of 31, it is time to face my fears. What would happen if I ditched my phone for the day? Would I perish from boredom or find myself liberated, finally embracing the full freedom of the Glastonbury experience?
