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Making the most of the hot weather with a lovely Sunday evening barbeque. The dogs were a bit hyper — Blitzen became completely obsessed with a giant bag of giant marshmallows! — but there were no disasters and they didn't manage to swipe anyone's food.

With Glastonbury close on the horizon — D&P had just driven back from setting up their stuff ahead of the start of the event — we got to discussing festivals and, much to my relief, a couple of the others announced that they weren't really into them either. Someone said that they didn't like not having somewhere quiet to go and recover from grumpiness, hanger, hangover, whatever, and that festivals had all the downsides of camping with all the downsides of being somewhere really busy and noisy.

A said that she'd signed up for a deal a while ago where you could do up to six festivals for Oxfam over a summer and had put her name down for both Glastonbury and Reading. But what had seemed like a good idea before her first festival didn't seem quite so attractive afterwards and even while she was still at Glasto, she decided she wasn't a festival person and bought her way out of going to Reading!

I was tempted to ask whether the Proms or Glyndebourne fell within the meaning of the act. They both call themselves festivals, so surely they must be in...

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