We aren't going. He made no attempt to get tickets. He thinks the tickets are far too expensive anyway. He went a few times in his youth. I've never been.
Just getting all that out of the way.
But here we are, two? weeks before Glastonbury and he's off again. Every morning scouring social media for hints about who the secret band is. Criticising the headliners. Going on and on about who played when he was young and how he jumped over the fence. Feigning horror at the spa, the wellness retreat and lifestyle bits of modern Glastonbury. Obsessing over whether or not the Foo Fighters will be the secret band. Saying "Guns and Roses??!!" several times before breakfast.
I think if he actually came out and said 'Aw I'd love to go to Glastonbury one year!" I might be more amenable. But the endless picking over it is doing my head in. I've resorted to a kind of irritated harrumph whenever I'm asked my opinion of who the secret fucking band will be.
He does this every year and it's always a relief when it's finished tbh.