When I was around 17 or 18, I wrote a letter to Michael Eavis, the founder and organiser of Glastonbury Festival.

In it I described that those three to five days on Worthy Farm each year were the only times that I felt truly free and safe in my surroundings. I’ve always been a worrier so being able to feel how I felt without fear of judgment, mockery or bullying was a miracle in my teenage years – an Avalon made real among the mud and mayhem of 100,000+ people in a converted dairy farm.

He didn’t write back to me but it was ok. I’d thanked him for making my life better.

This week I realised that Glastonbury wasn’t the only time that I felt truly safe. For years I’ve just not seen that those many thousands of people in the cabaret field or traipsing their way to the Pyramid were just an adopted family, brought together by nothing in particular but everything at the same time.

I remembered as a child how I felt as my granddad towelled my hair so vigorously it almost hurt as I got out of the hot bath at their house in the usually frozen north of England. Wrapped in a huge soft towel, my brothers and I would be shepherded into bed, warmed by electric blankets while outside the rain invariably continued to pour.

Food to feed a thousand would accompany us wherever we went, rain coats or jumpers would appear from nowhere if the weather changed and despite the trouble three boys could, and probably did, get into, a quiet step or two behind, they would always be.

Five hours away on the South coast, sweaters and wellies were replaced by shorts and sandals on the pebbly beaches of Brighton and Hove. Seaside chips and an endless supply of 2p pieces made weekend visits feel like years, we jumped into the sea, screamed around the fairground and tore around the clanging din and flashing lights, though all the while, a quiet step or two behind, they would always be.

What I realised as my final grandparent died on Saturday was that it was family that made me feel happiest and safest. I’ve been lucky enough to have lived nearly 30 years with all four and still didn’t truly appreciate them until now. It’s a cliché for a reason and made a pretty catchy lyric for Joni Mitchell.

Whether it was grandparents, aunts or uncles, cousins, mum, dad, brothers, neighbours or friends, those times that I took for granted were and continue to be, truly wonderful because it’s in those moments that true families allow you to be the most authentic version of yourself.

Yes there can be challenging times too and we have had our fair share. I just know that I am privileged to have grown up surrounded by so much love, whether it was explicitly said or just felt in the protective embraces and now lost touches. 

Glastonbury may have been my safe escape from everyday life but now I’m finally beginning to understand that I was safest and happiest when surrounded by those closest to me and it makes me unbelievably sad to know that those moments are slipping away or have already disappeared, never to be felt again.

*I wrote this just over two years ago and never had the bravery to post. Also I don’t think it’s my best “work”….anyway. I miss my grandparents everyday still and really believe my life, or understanding of it, has not been the same since.

**Also never watch Coco by Pixar if you’ve ever had a loss in the family. I think about this film daily.