The annual Glastonbury ticket scramble: Ten years of trying and finally getting in

Let’s start with a confession: getting Glastonbury tickets has basically become my annual ritual in stress management. For ten years, I was on a losing streak—refreshing, reloading, scrambling, and still getting nowhere. And every time, I’d think, “Next year. Next year, I’ll get it right.” It’s like some weird game of chance where you’re just as likely to end up frustrated and ticketless as you are to actually make it to Worthy Farm.

Over the years, I’ve tried nearly every method, hack, and rumor floating around on the internet. I’d heard from friends who claimed they had it “all figured out,” only to watch them freeze up and lose it at the last second. So here’s the thing I’ve learned after a decade of Glastonbury ticket mayhem: there is no guaranteed way. None. Just a mix of strategies, luck, and, well, possibly divine intervention.

Blind Hope and The Refresh Button

The first few years were pretty naive attempts. I’d log in right at 9 a.m., armed with one device, maybe a cup of tea, and a slightly optimistic outlook. Back then, I genuinely thought that all you had to do was be on time and keep refreshing, and voilà, I’d get through. But Glastonbury is a beast, and the ticketing system? Ruthless. I remember those first few years, just staring at the “Please wait…” screen, hitting refresh with more and more desperation until finally seeing that dreaded “Sold Out” notice.

Then I discovered the so-called “tricks” people swear by. Refreshing every 10 seconds but not too often so you don’t get blocked. Using multiple browsers, multiple devices, asking friends to try from different locations. It became this annual scramble, where suddenly I’m no longer just one person trying for tickets, but this mini army with devices spread all over the room.

The Spreadsheet Era

Eventually, it hit me that winging it wasn’t cutting it. If I wanted any chance at all, I needed organization. And so, the spreadsheet era began. I put together a roster of friends—usually a group of six of us, the maximum allowed on one purchase. We’d gather everyone’s registration numbers, postcodes, and email addresses, double-checking every detail. We’d meet up or hop on group chats, dividing ourselves into groups, each with its own tab in the spreadsheet.

The morning of ticket day felt like setting up for a heist. We’d be logged in on two laptops, phones ready, and Wi-Fi and mobile data split between devices just to keep things moving. And here’s the kicker—no one could celebrate until we had that confirmation email. I remember once getting to the payment page, feeling like I was finally there, and the site crashed just as I hit submit. By the time I got back in, every ticket was gone. It was one of those moments where I had to laugh to keep from screaming.

It’s mostly luck - but we can dream of hacks right?

After a few years of this organized chaos, I started noticing patterns. People would tell me things like, “Oh, if you try using a VPN to pretend you’re overseas, it works better!” or “Phones work better than laptops,” or “Chrome is better than Safari.” I tried all of these at one point or another, including using a VPN while abroad. I thought buying from a different country might somehow give me a secret advantage. Spoiler: it didn’t. One year, I was in Los Angeles trying from my hotel’s Wi-Fi, thinking I’d found the magic trick. But, as usual, I watched that spinning “please wait” screen for half an hour before giving up.

And then there’s the refreshing technique. Some people say to refresh manually every 10 seconds. Some swear by letting the page auto-refresh. Honestly, I’ve tried both, and neither feels like it changes much. You’re either lucky that day, or you’re not.

The Year I Finally Got Through

Then came the year I finally got tickets. And was it my most organized attempt? Not exactly. I’d say it was actually one of my messier ones. I had two laptops and my phone set up, one on Wi-Fi and one on mobile data. We had our spreadsheet with everyone’s details, and I was there on the main See Tickets page, refreshing away.

Suddenly, I was in. Like, actually in. I hit the payment page, felt my heart racing, and was so nervous I almost mistyped my card details. There’s this moment of surreal panic that hits when you realize, “This is it, don’t mess it up.” I pressed “Submit,” and then stared at the screen, half-expecting it to crash again. But it didn’t. The confirmation email came through, and I remember just sitting there in disbelief.

Even then, I didn’t really celebrate until the tickets actually arrived in the mail weeks before the festival. Because you never know—you just never know with Glastonbury tickets.

So, what’s the real trick?

After all that? The real trick is honestly just persistence. Every year, millions of people try for these tickets, and only a fraction get through. Sure, having a spreadsheet, a group, and multiple devices ready is smart. It’s worth trying the coach packages, aiming for the April resale if you miss out, and even volunteering. But at the end of the day, there’s no surefire way.

The closest thing to a “trick” I can offer is this: go in with a plan, but expect chaos. If you reach the payment page, stay calm, check your details, and don’t rush. And don’t get your hopes up too high; treat it like a lottery with slightly better odds.

Was it worth it? (yes, even after ten tries)

Glastonbury is like no other festival I’ve been to. There’s this feeling on the farm, dancing under the open sky, that justifies every frustrating ticket attempt. I’ve been to many other festivals, but none come close to the sheer magic of Glastonbury.

If you’re in the ticket trenches this year, good luck. Remember, even if you don’t get through, there’s always next year. And when you finally do make it in? Every single second of ticket-day stress will feel worth it.

If you’re super interested in some actual, worthwhile hacks for Glastonbury - you can check out my blog where i’ve gone into more detail: www.wheresholly.com