They came, They saw, They killed my faith in humanity and people with the same music taste as me.

Example & Don Diablo - Hooligans

'Where's all the Hooligans, The nasty music fans?' asks Example in his charming Cockney accent.

I feel compelled to answer that they were, for the most part, present in the crowds of Glastonbury festival last weekend.

I don't want to sound like an intolerant old biddy who has a problem with people enjoying themselves, but for me it seemed to go above and beyond the realms of acceptability.

On Thursday night, I lost all my respect for anyone with the same music taste as me. Perhaps my head was in a naive and romantic place where I believed that people who enjoyed the subtlety and intelligence of Maximo Park and Metronomy's music would be people I'd get on with. This, however, was proved to be spectacularly wrong by a throng of seemingly anaesthatised drones, punctuated only by the violent and inconsiderate groups of tall, hat-wearing, hairy sweaty men, often shouting 'Oggy', and 'Oi'.

On Friday, my faith was restored by a trip to the Park Stage, enduringly my favourite venue of the festival, to see the true romantics, Golden Silvers, on a rainy morning. My later trip back, to see the Horrors was similarly enjoyable, despite worries that their harder sound would attract a less gentle clientele.

On Saturday, my mood was punctured only by the somewhat out-of-place 'Woop-woop' which emitted itself during Franz Ferdinand's 'Outsiders' drum solo;



(Thanks to SpaceThisWatch for uploading...Ha.)

and the 20 minutes+ spent trudging into Shangri-La, unecessary I was sure. However, when I got in it was undoubtedly worth it, as I saw the exhilarating Africa Express soundsystem, and their riveting 2Hour jam.

On Sunday... The highlight for me had to be Blur, despite being next to a group of thirty-somethings who enjoyed placing each other on their shoulders despite obvious problems with balance, and extreme heckles from the people behind. During one song, the man next to me spoke so loudly that it impaired my hearing of the tune. I was not happy. My only sanctuary was, ironically, during the minutes he spent attempting to extract his girlfriend's tonsils, during which they frequently brushed me in their clunky attempts to move while kissing.

Unpleasant.

having written all of that, the great bits far outweighed the bits ruined by other people. Maybe I am destined to live alone with a cat, stare out of the window and get ratty when I can hear the noise from next door. But then I think maybe it's not too much to expect a festival such as Glastonbury to have a more laid-back atmosphere with more consideration for your fellow man. We were all in it together, but I just failed to feel the cameraderie I had known last year.

Expect more from me, now it's the summer holidays.

Sq.