Glastonbury was epic. Yes, it rained. Yes, it was a mud bath. But I'm by no means a clean freak. A good poncho, plenty of layers, adorable wellies (knee-high rubber boots, for you Yanks), and good hats sealed me up pretty well.

And who cares if your legs get disgusting, really?

I've now seen a completely nude man wrestling a bunch of other people, coated with chocolaty mud.

And rocked at a silent disco, where everyone wears headphones and listens to the same song. Oh yeah, and sings. So when you pull off the headphones you ONLY hear thousands of people singing. Awesome.

The highlights: The Hold Steady, Maximo Park, Cold War Kids, Kate Moss, Martha Tilston, some hilarious speeded out dude with a guitar, Chemical Brothers, Arctic Monkeys, hilarious cabaret dude, Lily Allen, KT Tunstall, Dirty Pretty Things, The View, The Magic Numbers, The Go Team, Mika, Mr. Scruff, Young Knives, Damien Marley

The disappointments: The Killers, The Kooks, The Fratellis, Babyshambles at all times when Kate Moss was not on stage, Amy Winehouse (when she wasn't singing), Bjork. Who is bjoring.

The queue to leave was pretty gnarly, admittedly. We layered pretty well, but it was a solid 3 hours in a swampy mud. Apparently people were pulled out and brought out in ambulances for hypothermia.

But I loved it. Even through the endless wait to leave, trudging our crap through the muck, I kept singing and dancing. Why not? Yeah, people looked at me like I was crazy, but I was in the most amazing mood. I'd do a verse, another friend would do a verse.

I think people hated us, actually.

What the hell is the point of being in a bad mood, though?

Anyway, I heard about 1,000 people broke a leg getting through the mud. I don't get that. It was hard and my body is aching all over, but I don't see how you snap a bone walking.

And for those of you wondering, it took six of us online and on the phone on the day of ticket sales to get them, and only none of us got through, but the brother of a friend did and bought tickets for everyone he knew. Not that fair, but I'm not biting the hand that scores me festival tickets.

So don't forget to register by February next year, or you'll miss it (yet again).