Too...much...genius.

My poor brain. My poor feet. My poor back. My poor everything.

Rolf Harris and Spinal Tap on the same day. Too much genius for any mind to handle. From Two Little Boys to The Majesty of Rock. I can die a happy woman.

First, Rolf. And from the word go it was clear there was going to be trouble. Headed to Jazz World and pointed out to a mate that it was odd that he was playing there.

"I saw him on the Pyramid in 2002," I said. "The whole of Glastonbury turned out."

And, it turned out that the whole of Glastonbury had turned out again. Jazz World is clearly a smaller field than the Pyramid and foot traffic became gridlocked as people tried to get to the field. When Rolfie took to the stage the paths leading to the stage were packed with people, flags and banners and we were forced to listen to his first number while standing next to some toilets in the field next to Jazz World. Mmmm. Stinky.



Eventually edged a little closer and started shaking my funky thang to Sun Arise and The Irish Rover, watched a thirty-year old man with a spike through his eyebrow get reduced to tears by a rousing rendition of Two Little Boys. The sacrilegious -but-hilarious wobble-board version of Stairway to Heaven was a perfect closer.

Sadly, Fine Day was missed off the setlist for some reason, but given the patriotic version of Tie me Kangaroo Down, Sport (sung to the tune of Land of Hope and Glory) I'm prepared to forgive him. Once again, Rolf has cemented himself in my conciousness as my favourite geriatric, animal-bothering, Australian entertainer. 

Then a quick jog to the Pyramid for Spinal Tap. "Hello, whoever you are!" barked Nigel. "You've missed us!"

At this point I could start making quips about turning it up to 11, but that would be lame. Nigel and co were genius. Perfectly bemused the Majesties of Rock treated the hot and sweaty crowd to Stone 'enge, Hotter than hell, Hell hole, Big Bottom, Gimme some Money, the deeply appropriate Stinkin' Up The Great Outdoors, Saucy Jack and Sex Farm amongst others. A mini Stone 'enge carried through the crowd by a couple of punters raised cheers before the band had even made it on stage and predictably made it to the big screens.

Cameos from Jamie Cullum and Jarvis Cocker, a misbehaving inflatable Stonehenge and two dancing dwarves dressed as monks and forgetting to introduce the drummer because they expected him to have died all served to make me a very happy (if sweaty) camper indeed and made me want to rush out and see This is Spinal Tap again.



Threw some horns, played air guitar, waved my hair in people's faces and generally had a brilliant time. Course, I'm from Street. I was bound to appreciate a band featuring the namesake of the patron saint of quality footwear.

Anyway.  Must crack on.

And on the seventh day, he made Rolf.

Got up bright and early and made my way through an all-but-deserted site to get to the press tent nice and early, only to find myself queuing outside as if I was in some communist country (although, obviously a third world country that has music festivals, lots of journalists and free wi-fi.) Could have had an extra hour in the sleeping bag, or at least a bacon butty if I'd known.

I think I managed to snatch around three hours sleep, things didn't seem to quiet down until almost sunrise, I've got one of those bodybag-shaped sleeping bags and I was obviously cold at some point last night and pulled the draw string thing so it was all over my head, with just a letterbox for my eyes. This caused a surprising amount of panic this morning as I tried to free myself. Felt a little like an escapologist, but I triumphed in the end.

I feel as if I've been here forever, I've seen and done so much. Met up with my colleagues, had a few drinks and then went very bad celeb spotting. We did spot Howard Marks, and someone who was either a Basement Jaxx or a Chemical Brother, drag-queen Jodie Harsh, someone who claimed to be Jason Mraz, but most likely wasn't, that bloke from the BBC who used to be on Newsround and someone we thought was Thierry Henry, but wasn't.

Rubbish.

After rocking out to Neil, Cat and me walked up to the stone circle to see the festival at night from what's probably the highest point. It's so beautiful. When you look at it and see the scope of the thing, it's just breathtaking. All lit up with fires and lights, lasers filling the sky, noise and music and people everywhere - this magical city that springs up and vanishes in the space of a week.

Met a journalist from the FT yesterday. For the life of me I can't figure out why the FT are here. Today sees Rolf Harris and Spinal Tap take to the stage, as well as Bruce Springsteen. More interested in Rolf, honestly - he was amazing in 2002 - but we'll see where the day takes me.

I've given up on the weather forecast and have taken to cloud watching. Today the skies are blue and the clouds are fluffy and it just goes to show what The Guardian know - even if they did name check me (sort of) on Twitter.

Anyway. Rolf's on in a minute. Better get moving. Wonder if he'll do Jake the Peg.

Are we there yet?

How exciting. Rolf Harris, Maximo Park, Spinal Tap, Kasabian, Blur, Neil Young and..um.. Status Quo. The full line-up has been revealed, I'm obsessively clicking on long range weather forecasts and have found myself looking at welly boots and wondering if it's worth shelling out £16 for ones with little designs on, or if I should shun labels and dredge out the green pair I wore last year. (Although this would mean digging them out of the garage and a thorough inspection to make sure no spiders have moved in.) Not that I don't have faith in the weather of course.

I'm really excited about the festival this year - promises of a long hot summer and the first line up I've been excited about since Rage Against the Machine played there in...um...I can't remember have made me come over all a-quiver.

Thoroughly looking forward to Rolf Harris. The guy's a legend and his stint on the Pyramid back in 2002 ranks up there as one of my all-time-best-Glastonbury-moments ever, (then again, my second would probably have to be The Wurzels last year, so let's not put too much stock in my musical taste.)

Quite looking forward to Blur, since the whole Brit-pop thing totally passed me by at the time and I've since found out that I kinda like some of their stuff.

And Neil Young. Neil Young. I can't wait. The idea of seeing him live is making me practically salivate with excitement.

In the office, we're all working our collective socks off on this year's festival preview and website, I've finally worked out how to make the Facebook page, somebody else is sorting out the Twitter thing so I don't have to and all in all things are starting to take shape.

I'm particularly excited about being able to blog while I'm out and about on the site (in theory, at least) and not being chained to the dodgy wireless connection in the press tent.

The whole festival is hanging in front of us, the festival site is taking shape on our doorstep and I. Cannot. Wait.