Special Dispatch: Not Manic Organic, Glastonbury Festival
by Cher E. Jamm
This is an apology where a review should be. I'm filing it to my editor, Malcolm Eggs, and it will be up to him whether he runs it or not [I think the public needs to hear this - Ed]. All I can say is that with the the clarity that only comes with hindsight, I now realise that perhaps Manic Organic and I will never be united in breakfasting glory. For the third year running, I have tried, and failed, to review their vegan breakfast. This year, I made the mistake of promising myself a Manic breakfast on the last day, the Sunday. In the preceding days I would sample other delights, or cook my own breakfasts to save money. Manic Organic would be a treat, I had told myself. I passed the stall every day and beamed at it, giving it a little knowing nod. I even took a photo and sent it to the LRB's esteemed editor when he got in touch to see how I was getting on. It was all in hand, he had nothing to worry about: 2010 would be the year it happened. I had no reason to doubt that it would.
Now that I'm home, I've had the time to meditate on the facts. I even discussed it with my Breakfast Spiritual Advisor - she who puts a bowl of muesli and a jug of milk on her bedside table the night before in order to take her first course the minute she wakes. BSA suspects that perhaps Manic Organic and I have some kind of mutual karmic block. Bad blood. Unresolved issues from past lives. She says I need to make peace with the place before the universe will allow me to get there. She's suggested I go to their Cafe in Birmingham with an offering before Glastonbury 2011.
And so, to the facts, dear reader:
- I awoke on Sunday at 11am.
- I had a shower, got changed and shook off my hangover with a cup of tea and a slice of orange and walnut cake from Queen Deliah's veggie cafe two doors over from Manic. The cake was delicious and orangey - somewhere between cake and an undercooked brownie. The tea was a little watery for my liking.
- Afterwards, I decided to go and see a friend I had kept missing all weekend, about a 25 minute walk away. I was full from the cake and tea and thought I would leave it an hour or so and come back for my Manic feast with a clear head.
- At about 4pm, I was called by Mr Jamm in a state of panic. He sent me on a mission collecting much needed footage for a video that was being shot and edited on-site. I had to find famous people and interview them for it.
- My assignment meant that I had to spend the next hours sweet-talking musicians' weedy managers into letting me chat to them after they came off stage. All the while, I was very aware that Manic Organic is getting further and further away from me.
- By the time I finished said assignment, I dropped the camera off at the production office and ran (RAN!) to catch Stevie Wonder at the Pyramid stage.
- The rest, in all honesty, is a hazy mixture of rum, friends, joy and laughter. No Manic breakfast.
- Monday morning was spent packing up. I had breakfast made for me. I made the foolish assumption that Manic Organic would be packing up, too. We passed it as we drove away, a small queue of die-hard fans stood waiting for their last breakfast of the festival. I shed a tear, and pawed at the window as we passed. Sad times.
And that is what happened. I now know that I should have been brave and taken breakfast at Manic Organic, instead of tea and cake at Queen Delilah's. I now know that I need to make a pilgrimage to Birmingham to make peace. Then and only then will I get that review to you all next year. The road to hell is paved with good intentions. I'm sorry I failed you.