This year's Glastonbury was, according to Michael Eavis, the muddiest in the festival's 46-year history and the subsequent traffic chaos made headline news throughout the world but did a seven hour queue or a bit of mud dampen our spirits? Hell, no! With all the crap going on in the real world it was the least of our worries.
Although the gates opened at 8am on Wednesday the festival didn't officially kick-off until 11 am on Friday. A great leveller as no matter your age, status or background you're as hungover, filthy and knackered as everyone else.
1980s Indie gods, James, opened Glastonbury 2016, delayed for an hour while the ground crew attempted to soak up the quagmire with bales of hay and wood chip (at the end of the weekend the festival had used up South West England's entire supply of wood chip). Despite the torrential rain Tim Booth put on a great show, treating us to his legendary freaky dancing and stage diving headlong into the ecstatic crowd.
Snug in our rain capes we cracked open the canned cocktails and stayed to watch Blossoms and some spectacular French pop in the form of Christine & The Queens (thanks for the heads-up, Em & Fiona!)
After a pit stop back at the tent for food and a change of clothes we caught the brilliant ZZ Top at the Pyramid Stage. We could have stayed there for Muse's headlining set but as we'd seen them countless times decided to explore further afield.
After catching Hothouse Flowers at the Acoustic Stage we moved on to the cabaret field where we danced in the mud to the New York Brass Band (from Yorkshire).
We met the Glasto Cowboys. (Linking this to Patti's Visible Monday)
Saw tributes to the great and the good,
Had fun in the Circus field...
Before heading off to the Post-Apocalyptic, distopian wasteland that is
post-Brexit Britain Block 9.
We caught a stupendously brilliant surprise gig by Reef
Had a messy rave in the meat packing district,
Before making our way to The Park, settling into what looked like someone's Nan's front room to watch Richard Hawley.
After drinking and chatting into the early hours back at camp we rolled into bed fully dressed (it might be mid-summer but it was bastard freezing).
Glastonbury - muddy and overcrowded, eh? This is Petta's Pond, a wooded glade recently discovered behind the John Peel stage. The perfect place to spend Saturday morning.
A dry day! We sat on a grassy bank in the sunshine watching Dua Lipa and Alessia Cara.
We decided to move on to the Stone Circle. Not the easiest of walks when you're up to your ankles in mud.
But it certainly made kicking off those wellies and cracking open a can all the more blissful.
Crowds, what crowds? Glastonbury really does have something for everyone.
No rest for the wicked, time to pull the wellies back on and head to West Holts to catch Mbongwana Star from the Congo.
....and the Shibusa Shirazu Orchestra from Japan, labelled (quite rightly) the weirdest band in the world. See them HERE.
On the way back to camp we saw an incredible acrobatic performance.
Later on most of the gang met up for the spectacular set by psychedelic Australian band, Tame Impala, photo-bombed by a random bloke.
She might be the biggest recording artist in the world but Pyramid Stage headliner Adele just doesn't float our boat. Luckily New Order were playing the Other Stage at the same time. When they finished with Love Will Tear Us Apart, a song I've loved since John Peel first played it in 1980, I was already quite emotional, but seeing the backdrop featuring a photo of Ian Curtis with the words "Forever Joy Division" made me blub like a baby. Wonderful stuff.
Sunday morning was a bit of a write off as we'd been up indecently late, chatting (and boozing) back at camp but we were near enough to the Pyramid Stage to enjoy Gregory Porter & Laura Mvula's sets from outside our tents.
Mid-afternoon, the rain torrential, we headed to the Other Stage to watch Jamie Lawson & Years & Years (we'd caught some of the latter's act last year and loved it) but it takes a pretty special band to play in weather as bad as it was on Sunday and this time they felt disappointingly flat.
We returned to camp to dry off after stopping en route to admire Glastonbury Tor, recreated by festival goers in cardboard.
After a quick change we caught Beck who lifted our spirits and got us all dancing. Coldplay were next up but we've tried to like them and just can't so we escaped and watched Cyndi Lauper at The Acoustic stage (undercover and dry) instead and were glad we did, she was fab.
After yet another late night chat back at camp we turned in, setting the alarm for 7 am, giving us time to pack up and leave the site before rush hour, calling into Cheddar on the way home for our traditional civilised lunch in a gorgeous riverside inn, scaring the punters and staff alike with our filthy, disheveled appearance.
...And that was Glasto 2016. Wet, cold, muddy and f*cking marvelous.
Back to reality with a bump, Britain out of Europe, England out of the Euros, our political system imploding and awoken by my doctor this morning, calling to tell me that I'm on the waiting list for another hip replacement. Never mind, less than 48 hours to go until we escape reality for another festival. Camperjam here we come!
See you next week!