Max...

Chris can't see the likeness... I have no idea why not. It may be the expressions, I guess you don't pay so much attention to your own expressions but I don't think I've ever seen a kid look so much like his father.

I've never seen so many tents and such a massive variety of people, a few drunk, a few erm... wasted souls, a LOT of tents - rammed in with only a foot or two between - enough space to tiptoe home, if you can find home!

My conclusion from this is to embrace middle age, enjoy every second as I'm wandering round in sensible shoes with my cider in my camelbak, waterproofs at the ready and a bog roll in my rucksack. When I'm done in by Dolly or edged out by Elbow then I can wander back up to the campervan field, where there are clean toilets and friendly neighbours, a little club of fellow middle agers, total stoners, the young and pretty gang and us. And a proper bed with a locking door and a very clean lav!

This is how to do Glastonbury. We met up with Nicki and Chris and we met Max for the first time. He shares his birthday with little Charlie. Nicki has been coming here for years with her family and it's a military operation. The start team were here overnight in the queue. They take all the tents, wait for the gates to open and run to the spot they want. They put all the outer shells up while the next team bring the rest on trolleys. It's a tight ship and they all muck in. We went to see where they were parked and then wandered back through the masses to the van. It took about an hour and a half as I was distracted by photos and we dawdled.

Back at van in comfy chairs with cider and fairy lights and fluffy blankets! I had no concept of just how massive a place this is and it's only at about 60% capacity. This weekend, apparently we're in the biggest town in the south west.

Beyond epic!