Glastonbury 2025: Volunteering, Recycling, and Rediscovering the Magic
This year marked my 16th Glastonbury Festival – a number that still blows my mind. But Glastonbury 2025 came with a twist.
After the heartbreak of missing out on tickets (despite our best efforts), I wasn’t quite ready to give up on the dream. So I decided to go a different route – volunteering with the Critical Waste Post festival Recycling Crew (big up Team 3!), helping to clear the campsites once the music had faded and the masses had gone home.
Due to the work involved and the time needed away from home/work/daughter, it wasn’t possible for myself and Kat to both volunteer at the festival. This wasn’t my first year at Glasto without Kat — but it’s never the same without her. She’s my partner in crime in life and pleasure, and her absence was felt every step of the way. It was also the longest I’ve been away from our daughter Alice (11 days) which added a real emotional weight to the trip. But with plenty of love and support from home, I was able to fully give it everything I had.
And give it everything I did: by the end of the festival, I’d walked 220,199 steps, covering 178.9 kms across the fields, campsites, stages and pathways of Worthy Farm. That’s a lot of boots-on-the-ground recycling effort – and some seriously sore legs.
Volunteering gave me a completely different perspective on the festival – and on work itself. My day-to-day life is rooted in the digital world: creating engaging, bespoke online digital training as part of a small digital agency. I’m used to focused, screen-based work, tight-knit teams, and long stretches of problem-solving sitting in front of a desk.
Suddenly, I was part of a huge, diverse workforce – hundreds of volunteers from all walks of life, working shoulder to shoulder under the sun (and occasional clouds). Students, retirees, first-timers, seasoned Glasto-goers – all united by a shared love of the festival and a desire to be part of something bigger than themselves. It was a total shift from my usual world of digital design and learning platforms to something visceral and physical: dusty boots, binbags, and blue crew t-shirts. And while both worlds rely on collaboration, it was refreshing and energising to be part of something so tangible, so immediate, and so massive in scale. No hierarchy, no egos – just teamwork, humour, early starts and long shifts, all driven by the simple goal of giving something back to the greatest festival on earth.
There were brilliant, surreal moments too – like the time a few of us found ourselves on the Pyramid Stage during rehearsals for the opening theatrical show. We’d wandered over, thinking we were joining the rest of the recycling team for humming practice, only to realise we were in the middle of an actual rehearsal with professional singers. A few awkward looks later, we made a swift and silent retreat offstage.
Post festival, we climbed onto the Other Stage. It’s huge when you’re up there, looking out over a field that just days before was packed with energy, fire and noise. Whilst up there, I found a box of canned waters on stage – apparently left behind by none other than The Prodigy. I ‘recycled’ a few, obviously.
The crew bars were a world of their own – full of late-night chats, cold drinks, and new friends. Volunteering connected me with fellow Glasto lovers who all shared a common reason for being there: giving back to a place that’s given us all so much.
The work was tough. Hot days, heavy lifting, and sore feet. But it was also deeply fulfilling. Seeing the fields slowly return to green, knowing you helped make that happen – it stays with you. And while I missed my family, I also came back feeling proud, recharged (eventually), and reminded of just how powerful shared purpose can be – whether you’re building online learning or rebuilding a farm.
Would I do it again? That’s a question that doesn’t need answering for a couple of years now (the festival is taking a break until 2027). But by then, I’m hoping my wife will be back beside me – and maybe, just maybe, our daughter will be ready for her first taste of the Glastonbury festival spirit too.
Until then — thank you, Glastonbury 2025. You were exhausting, emotional, meaningful, and absolutely unforgettable.
