On Friday, it was Bring Your Dog To Work Day. In our daughter’s case, it was Bring Your Work To The Dog Day.
A software engineer, she is currently a home worker with two collies. So, she sprawled out on the floor with her laptop as the two dogs looked on.
She was writing code for some database thing and Lance, the older hound, seemed to be intrigued. He seemed to be following the process really well.
So intelligent, that mutt. I don’t think it will be too long before the dog is doing his own spreadsheet. He already does something which sounds a bit similar every time he gets out into the back garden.
Out in the big garden that is Worthy Farm, venue of Glastonbury Festival, were Uilly, Innes and Boydie, the lads of Stornoway musical pioneers, Peat & Diesel.
They were great. You can see their gigs on their Facebook page. Absolutely amazing.
At one point, Swedish save-the-world campaigner Greta Thunberg was spotted bopping along to one of their countless crowd pleasers. Nice choice, GT.
Some big stars were there. Noel Gallagher, Stormzy, Bruce Springsteen, Sir Paul McCartney and Ms Diana Ross. Ms Ross pulled an even bigger crowd than the ex-Beatle, according to many reports. And, she wasn’t out of tune as some hypercritics claimed.
As at many festivals, if the earphone audio is drowned out by the masses singing along – and they blinking well were – it is extraordinarily difficult to get the sound right. Only big stars have that problem, of course. She was there in the middle of a chain reaction.
Avoid Glastonbury Crossed Leg Syndrome by staying on the sofa
That’s what I would be worried about at Glasto – an unwelcome reaction. With so much great food on offer at the festival, like hot dogs and vegan alternatives, lager, cider and the Glastonbury favourites, Goan fish curry and Anna Mae’s mac and cheese, you may need a wee comfort break.
Just one wee problem – the conveniences are far away from the centre of the action and, by the time you get to them, there are always queues. GCLS is a thing, doctors say. That’s Glastonbury Crossed Leg Syndrome.
After all the disappointment of the last two years, when some bug cancelled Glasto, everyone was determined to make this a good one. And it really was.
Thankfully, I didn’t have the trek through the mud to the facilities because there were great telly programmes, as well as the various less-than-official streams on social media of the acts with less of a profile – at the moment, anyway. There was a lot of coverage, all in all, and I had to record some of the acts I wanted to see as the broadcasts clashed with others.
It is so handy to record programmes if there is something we really want to see. On Friday, for example, we recorded a particular film the lady of the house wanted to finally watch. We’d heard so much about it.
When I asked Mrs X if I should record When Harry Met Sally, she shrieked: “Yes, yes, yes…” She went on like that for ages. All that commotion scared the dogs – and me. Maybe I ought to watch it with her this coming weekend to see what all the blinking fuss is about.
Summer events are back on the calendar
There is still much fuss to come this summer. We are now pretty much back to the usual annual cycle of events.
A couple of weeks ago, there was Royal Ascot, for those who take tea with pinky extended. I didn’t quite make it myself this year, darling. In fact, I’ve never quite made it, mate.
Then there’s the Hebridean Celtic Festival here in Stornoway in a couple of weeks. Not got tickets? You’ve had it.
Wait. Mrs X is shouting that we should go to the Isle of Wight Gaelic Festival on August 20 and 21, which she heard about on the radio. I’d better look that up. It’s a garlic festival.
So, there was Glastonbury last weekend and then it’s Wimbledon this week and next week. Mrs X wondered: “I suppose you already have some puns lined up about tennis.” I said: “I don’t think so. It’s not really my forte, love.”
I have just heard that the lads from Peat & Diesel were queuing for the toilets at Glastonbury when someone tried to push in past them. Who was it but the supreme diva that is Diana Ross.
She seemed all flustered and said she was sorry for pushing in, but she was in a bit of a hurry. Singer Boydie wasn’t happy. He shouted: “You can’t hurry, love. You’ll just have to wait…”
Iain Maciver is a former broadcaster and news reporter from the Outer Hebrides
Conversation