21st June. Midsummer solstice. Longest day of the year. At 11.30pm last night, my housemates and I decided to jump in the car and head to Stonehenge to witness first hand what exactly goes on during the night before the longest day of the year and when the the rope barriers are removed from around the circle of stones. I imagined a lot of drugs, dreadlocks, Druid dress, drumming, pagan rituals and chanting. There was drumming and I did spot a couple of older gentlemen with feathers in their hair, but the atmosphere of this once spiritual ritual was similar to that of a rather rubbish festival. The site was sprawling with Security in high-vis vests, sniffer dogs, burger vans, metal fencing and people passed out at your feet. One group of girls stumbled past at 1am looking like they had walked straight out of Topshop and had only ended up there because they had heard that this was the non-festival festival to be seen at. We were planning on staying to watch the sunrise, but by 2am we had had enough of the contradictory atmosphere, so headed back and were in bed, drifting off to sleep, just as the sun was starting to wake up.
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