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I was at Glastonbury, England around the time of the Summer Solstice in 92 - the locals in the pub said that if we wanted to see Stonehenge we'd better do it the day before as the roads would be closed on account of all the "Druids" (overgrown kids playing dressup if you ask me).

On the day of the actual solstice, I walked up St. Michael's Mount, which is allegedly where St. Michael threw Satan to Earth, and when I got to the top, the bearded hiker ahead of me took off his clothes (he stopped at his underwear) and started praying to the sun. I was praying too - "please God, let him be Canadian." After that the dancers in the meadow looked normal.

There are indeed some "bloody weird people" out there.