The alarm clock is sounding, dragging me out of the vivid dreams which have no doubt been triggered by the need to rise early. Funny, for most of my working life a 5:10 alarm after about five hours’ sleep was the norm for 25 years or more – now, after three years of retirement, 6:30 feels like early morning and there is a glue holding my eyelids in place.  Cold water on the face, caffeine in the gut, and we’re off. We’re up and about for a reason, not only are we travelling down to our beloved Cornwall for a week, but we’re detouring en route to Glastonbury, just over…