We moved the village of green crafts on a balmy Sunday afternoon. The village sat on the hill at the top of Glastonbury Kingdom and nestled on the the edge of the wilderness, known to the locals as the stone circle. Our great walled kingdom was safe and secure and had everything a kingdom needed to survive.
Our village was greener that the cities and towns that nestled below us and we had everything we needed in green crafts from stone masons, woodsmen, bakers and cloth weavers. Our land was more spacious that our nearby city dwellers and we had space not only to erect our bells tents, tipis and yurts, but to build a garden and a fence around our boundaries.
The village was build around a quiet dusty road that curled around the hamlet ending at the village green where a magnificent sculpture stood surrounded by grass and planting alike.
Everyone knew everyone’s name in green fields and the residents were please with how they had build such a wonderful place and thriving, well working community.
After a while The King of Glastonbury decided that the kingdom was to be opened to outsiders, and to make if fair a ballot was formed. People from outside the lands were given the chance to ‘stake a claim’ of their own part of Glastonbury and join the community that was working so well.
On that Wednesday morning the gates opened and the great land rush began, outsiders ( to be known to locals as ‘Punters’) dashed through the gates of the great wall and charged down the main highway to the great stretch of open green pastures to stake their claim. Falling over each other and laden with their worldly goods, the punters travelled on foot, pushing carts and wagons along the rugged roads. Many casualties were to be seen on that day, as folks left cans of Stella, blankets and clothing on the roads as they continued their fight for the best plots. They spilled onto the open fields and raced to their chosen plot, marking it with flags and banners while they quickly erecting temporary homes from canvas and nylon.
The green fields of the kingdom turned quickly in to a mass of blues and creams broken only by the odd hot pink of a pop up special from an outside suppliers named only as ‘Millets’. Flags fluttered gaily in the breeze and the punters celebrated their new lives together as they formed new friendships and communities almost immediately.
The residents sat back and watched as more and more punters teemed in through the gates, carefully and nervously watching as they passed by our homes.
As the communities grew so the kingdom evolved. The various towns opened up meeting places and gathering spaces for their communities to gather. The main place of worship was the ‘pyramid’, a large triangular building which boasted a large communal space to its frontage. Every day thousands would undertake the pilgrimage to hear their chosen speakers spread the word. Of course like in any society, many different cultures and beliefs prevail and many hubs of alternate worship popped up to cater for these. We had the Jazz world, circus, children’s Areas, dance arenas, acoustic stages and many many more, all corners of society were catered for and welcomed. The Kingdom helped the punters by setting up food outlets, medical provision was provided and even a new security force was brought in to protect the new citizens. The gates were closed and everyone joined together living in harmony in this now over populated but happy land.
We of course were still on the outskirts, our village was still quieter than the towns but the recent influx of people meant we had tourists coming to visit our beautiful village. I started face painting the punters and Mr. Angel helped them make lanterns from old willow and tissue paper. The would enjoy looking at how we lived and would take photos of us, calling us Hippies, something we really didn’t mind at all.
One Night an important meeting had taken place at the pyramid and many crowds of people had found themselves trying to take the same main road home from the city. The security had jumped into action and diverted the crowds through our village. We had never seen so many people in our small hamlet and as they passed by our homes, peering in at our candle lit tents, we could feel change in the air.
Sure enough the morning after the massive surge, the people came back to the strange village in which they had encounted the night before. They frequented our businesses and took pleasure in the more simple things in life; they learned traditional skills and how to relax, favoring more the campfires of our gardens to the great meeting halls of the city. They sat together singing and playing instruments, drinking chai instead of cider and talked less about line ups and more about the vibe.
One night the Kingdom celebrated their new found way of life, instead of the pyramid the pilgrimage to the stone circle high on the hill overlooking the kingdom. Together they sat and they watched as the sun rose above our beautiful land, cheering as it broke thought the space between land and sky.
As morning broke they silently returned to their plots of land, packed up gently their belongings and said their goodbyes. They quietly buy content they returned to their homes. They had learned how they wanted to live their lives and were ready to take back their new findings to those whom they had left behind.
We remained in the village for little while, tidying up the kingdom to its former state, before leaving ourselves. Tired and exhausted we left in the knowledge that we, the Glastonbury crew, had changed people’s lives forever.