TRAVELLERS to and from Appleby Fair last month left a disgusting trail of rubbish in their wake.
Meanwhile, at Glastonbury, long since the favoured festival of the middle classes, the rubbish is also piled high with small mountains of tents and chairs that people were too idle to take home with them.
A better class of rubbish?
No. All people who leave their detritus behind them are idle, selfish and inconsiderate and, in the case of the owners of those abandoned tents, clearly have more money than manners.
DOLLY Parton – fake hair, fake boobs, real voice and one of those people who instantly cheers you up – is 68 and shows no sign of slowing down.
Maybe when she strips off her sequins and hangs up her wig, she might turn back into a little old lady, longing for a cup of tea and a nice sit down.
But when she was strutting her stuff up on stage, she had Glastonbury eating out of her hand.
Past it? No way.
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