Things got off to a slightly annoying start however when, arriving bright and early for once, we found that, despite the tickets stating the camp-sites would be open from 10am, they weren't letting anyone in through the Richfield Avenue Industrial Estate entrance until noon. The reason? They claimed they'd lost the key... lost the plot, more like.

We got a good pitch in our favoured Camp-site X behind the Pot Noodle stall and settled down for a weekend of sunshine and lager.

Then we discovered how much Vince Power wanted for a bag of soggy bark. Six quid?!?! Arse!

Friday saw some of our party take a trip into Caversham, rather than the centre of Reading, in an attempt to find somewhere serving better breakfasts than BHS - not too difficult a task, all things considered. Dan and Fat Reg stayed on site and ate tinned veggie breakfasts warmed on a couple of firelighters. The others returned full of good food and beer from the Baron Cadogan.

The weather is glorious - perfect for lounging about drinking lager and talking shite. Sadly, the weather is also good enough for Wigg to don his sarong...

At some point in the day, Wigg reveals that his festival hygiene routine consists not of deoderant, like normal people, but of talcing his nads. And, bizarrely, his nipples. This, combined with his sarong and ladies' pants is far, far more than we really need to know about Wigg.

We even saw some bands - Foo Fighters (average as usual) and Primal Scream (pretty good, mostly).

Darkness saw the first rain of the weekend - during Oasis. The lightning striking behind the stage certainly improved their show however... which seemed to consist (to me, anyway) of them just going through the motions. We retired to the camp site for more lager - fortunately before they massacred Neil Young's "Hey Hey My My".