This morning at 9 am GMT, the final batch of tickets went back on sale for Glastonbury 2010. It was a mad scramble with a crashed server, confusion and confirmation issues, but after 67 frantic minutes, the festival was sold out. I did not land a ticket, despite my best efforts.

Rather than catching a few hours sleep and setting my alarm for the 4 am (my time) blast-off, I just stayed up and counted down the minutes. I was registered and ready and at about 3:55, I started clicking on the link for the ticket sale, which was through a site called The massive rush of people trying to get some of the precious few tickets being put back on sale crashed the site from the start, leading to some not-very-kind posts during the early going.

I jumped on Twitter to check the progress in real time and tweets had already started circulating how tickets had sold out in under a minute. Panic or a clever ruse to keep people off the site? I wasn’t swayed and kept trying. Eventually users started tweeting the link which placed you in the purchase queue. This was far from a guarantee, but it was progress. I quickly pasted the link into Firefox and repeated seven more times to get eight tabs working for me at once.

As I waited, I started to see tweets from people who had gotten through. Spirits were raised. Then I sneezed. Allergies I think, but that’s neither here nor there. Mostly there.

The minutes ticked by and my eyes, now heavy from lack of sleep, darted from my tabs to my Twitter account. Lucky ones were still reporting success, so I soldiered on. By 5:30 however, it was apparent that I would not be going to Glastonbury this year. I was not happy, but there was nothing more I could do. It wasn’t so much about missing the music as it was missing out on the experience with good company. With some other life decisions on the horizon, along with the now rising sun, I settled in for a not-so-good morning’s sleep…

3 thoughts on “Glastonburied

    1. You are, of course, correct nurselauren, and I feel any excuse I could come up with would only fall upon deaf ears, and not just because I like to shout my excuses at the Beverly School for the Deaf.

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