3 days ago
‘I couldn't tell where the mud ended and the poo began'
You might have a stereotype of a festival goer in mind: maybe an inebriated groupie in a band T-shirt trying to sneak backstage; a Kate Moss wannabe decked out in cutting-edge fashion, thick eyeliner and muddy wellies; or a millennial know-it-all who can name every single member of every single band, plus their birthdays and pets' middle names.
But these days, there's no such thing as a typical festival goer – or even a typical festival. While music festivals such as Glastonbury or Creamfields are well known for drawing huge crowds, there are countless alternatives within the UK, from literary, wellness and family festivals to quirky events such as cheese-rolling, mud-racing and pea-shooting.
Research from consumer insights platform GWI reveals that almost one in three Gen-Zers have attended a festival with their parents in the past year, while data from Mintel shows that over-55s account for a fifth of all concert-goers. It's time to rethink who festivals are for, and what a typical attendee looks like: these are the new festival goers.
'After a horrendous Glasto experience, it took me 17 years to return to a festival'
Cieran Brown, 42, from Putney, London, went to Into the Wild last year and is now finally a festival convert
In 2007, my mother and I decided to go to Glastonbury. She had just been through a tough year after overcoming a health diagnosis, so I thought it would be a fun thing to do together. I was 25 and she was in her early 50s and a festival virgin, but as a self-declared 'lapsed hippy', she was game to enjoy some feel-good festival vibes. We arrived on a Thursday night, pitched up our tents and braced ourselves for the long weekend ahead.
What happened over the next four days made me swear off festivals for life. The wettest Glastonbury on record saw torrential rain, accompanied by thunder and lightning, which lasted the entirety of the festival. The pristine green fields of Worthy Farm were soon turned into a swamp covered what could only be described as liquid mud.
Getting around the quagmire of a site became almost impossible as the suction and slurping of wellies in mud became a constant. Parts of the site with the highest footfall became no-go zones, such as the front of the Pyramid Stage, which was guaranteed to make you faceplant into the sludge. As for the toilets – let's just say that I couldn't tell where the mud ended and the s--- began. After a couple of days, it became a feat of physical and mental endurance.
Despite the hardship, my mum had a blast. No amount of mud was going to stop her from having a good time as she relived her youth in earnest. She got her hair braided with pink dreadlocks, and we got to see some great acts, such as Amy Winehouse, Iggy Pop and the Who.
By Sunday, the site resembled a battlefield, and the optimism of day one had long since been replaced with a grinding sense of acceptance. My mum was forced to visit the welfare tent with a suspected case of trench foot, and the final straw for me was when I discovered a giant rat right outside my tent.
Some people simply gave up and decided to leave early. We didn't have that luxury, as we had bought tickets that required us to travel to and from the site by coach to reduce traffic. This meant we couldn't leave till Monday morning, and as we queued to board our coach, we were handed emergency 'space blankets' by stewards. After a few hours' wait, which saw chaos and violence erupt, we finally departed for the long, wet drive home. Sitting in my sodden clothes, I vowed never to return and to enjoy festivals from afar – ideally from the comfort of my sofa.
However, 17 years later, I once again found myself packing my camping gear and wellies to return to another festival, albeit a slightly smaller one in the shape of Into the Wild – a conscious and 'back to nature', family-friendly event. I was initially hesitant, but my partner convinced me to give it a go and join her and her eight-year-old daughter for three days of workshops, music and community.
The main difference between this festival and Glastonbury was its emphasis on workshops celebrating 'connection, creativity and nourishing heart and soul by helping humans to rewild'. On our arrival at the site in Sussex, I felt badly out of place and deeply cynical of the harem pants, crystals, nose rings and man-buns adorning the predominantly white, middle-class crowd.
Despite my reservations, we pitched our tents under glorious sunshine and clear blue skies and bedded down. Overnight, however, it started to rain and I began to fear the worst. It was late August and, against my better judgment, we didn't bring a brolly. Despite this rookie mistake, and apart from the occasional wet spell, the weather was largely sunny and warm over the weekend.
I tentatively explored the site and attended various workshops over the next two days, including breathwork sessions, laughter yoga, men's sharing circles, drum jams and forest bathing. The biggest challenge was keeping my partner's daughter entertained – she felt too old for the kids' area but too young to join the adults, making it feel like we had a moody teenager reluctantly tagging along.
By the end of the weekend, I found myself relaxing as my overworked nervous system was able to switch off and disconnect from the modern world (reception was non-existent). This made me cherish quality time with my partner and her daughter, and to foster new connections, even if some of the more hippyish and woo-woo sections were challenging to my inner cynic.
I felt sad to be leaving, and I have since made plans to return with my partner, who will be facilitating at this year's event as a somatic art therapist. As for a return to Glastonbury, I am still on the fence. But I could have my arm twisted by a luxury yurt – weather dependent, of course.
'I went to my first festival in my 60s'
Julia Phillips, 70, a group finance director from Gosport, Hampshire, attended her first festival, The Big Retreat, five years ago
I have two wonderful children and four beautiful grandchildren who I adore wholeheartedly. I raised my children as a single parent from when they were just five and seven years old.
My career really took off when my children were teenagers. I worked in marine engineering and later became the group finance director for a group of construction companies.
Life was full – raising my children and building a career took all of my time and energy. As the business grew, so did the hours I worked. I rarely took time off, and in hindsight, that wasn't the healthiest choice. Festivals just weren't on my radar back then.
I've always loved the outdoors and I'm passionate about wellbeing and music, so when the opportunity arose to go to one when friends invited me to The Big Retreat, it felt like the right time. I'm always up for an adventure and open to new experiences.
I was a little apprehensive. I wasn't sure what to expect – what kind of people would be there, what the facilities would be like, or how I'd manage sleeping in a tent. But curiosity won out.
In the end, I absolutely loved it. What touched me most were the people contributing their time and talents, sharing deeply personal stories or resources, but there were also live bands, disco nights and loads of amazing food stalls.
I did yoga, went on beautiful walks, danced my socks off in the fitness zone, sang in the church, laughed like crazy in the laughter club, and had some peaceful moments by the estuary, sitting on hay bales. I even tried the ice bath, which was absolutely freezing but the feeling afterwards was incredible. Then I'd dance the night away again. It was full-on joy, pure happiness. There was this amazing sense of togetherness. It really did feel like medicine for the soul. Everyone was open, kind and on the same wavelength.
Even the tent and loo situation was better than I expected. It was lovely to say 'good morning' to your tent neighbours and feel like part of a little community. The loos were cleaned regularly, the showers were warm and even the washing-up area turned into a place for a good natter.
I wore comfy leggings, vest tops, a warm jumper for the evenings, and switched between trainers and walking boots depending on the day. I had my trusty yoga mat with me everywhere and a water bottle to keep hydrated. While I'd brought snacks and breakfast bits, most of the time I treated myself to food from the stalls. I met people on yoga mats, in queues, during workshops and more, and some of those connections have turned into real friendships that I still cherish.
I've always felt young at heart, and the festival had this energy where age just didn't matter. I never once felt like I didn't belong. If anything, it actually made me feel younger. Being around all kinds of people, all doing their thing and enjoying themselves was uplifting. The whole experience was such a lovely reminder that fun, learning and joy don't come with an age limit.
I've been back every year since, bar the pandemic, and I've booked to return in 2025, not just to attend but to teach my Move Through the Chakras class, something I was inspired to do thanks to The Big Retreat.
Who would have thought that after four years as a festival goer, I'd be performing at one at the age of 70? Life is full of surprises, and I'm here for them all.
I have no regrets about not going to one sooner; that's not my nature. I believe in embracing life as it comes and being grateful when you finally discover something that brings you joy. It's never too late.
'I go to festivals with my mum'
Emma Chandler, 28, a lawyer from Surbiton, London, took her mother, Helena, 67, a retired analyst, to Glastonbury last year, and clips of them enjoying themselves even made it on to the BBC and went viral on TikTok (@emacrosstheworld).
Mum is my best friend – we get on really well and do everything together. So when my cousin suggested we go to Glastonbury all together to celebrate my aunt's 70th birthday, I didn't hesitate. It didn't once cross my mind that it would be embarrassing to go with Mum; I knew it would be amazing, even though she'd never been to one before.
Obviously there is always going to be a bit of a culture shock at Glasto – that's half the reason people go. We saw some naked people and some interesting outfits, and there were a lot of drugs. Mum was surprised about how brazen people were, pulling bags out in front of crowds of people. We were all a bit horrified about the loo situation – the smell is something none of us will forget. But Mum was the one giving everyone in the queue loo roll and hand sanitiser.
I have to confess we did splash out to go glamping and slept on camp beds, but while it might have been comfortable, nothing could block out the sound of snoring in the tent behind us. The tents were off site, so we had a 10 to 15-minute walk on top of wherever we wanted to go. Regular Glastonbury goers will know that the site is huge, so we ended up doing more than 30,000 steps a day. Thankfully Mum is quite fit, so she was OK, but we took lots of breaks and sat and watched people to save our legs for the headliners.
It was just brilliant to see her dancing to drum and bass, pushing her way to the front and getting into daily fancy dress. But the highlight had to be watching Coldplay. The group has massive meaning to my family: my dad and I used to listen to Viva La Vida on full blast driving down the motorway, so experiencing that live with my mum was very emotional. (My dad doesn't like crowds, so he'd never do a festival – he's more of a beach holiday fan.)
During their set, she got up onto my shoulders, and that was picked up by the BBC television cameras. People saw her on my shoulders, and loved it. The fact she even got on television was beyond her wildest dreams – she's rewatched the set about 10 times since.
I posted our experience on TikTok, thinking it would just be a cute memory – seeing it go viral was crazy. I'd posted a bit before but had never had a response like that. As we drove home, I read Mum all of the beautiful comments from strangers. They called her an inspiration, and that's what she is for me. The thought of her bringing so much positivity and light to more people just made me so happy. I'd recommend anyone taking their mum to Glastonbury.
