Mrs Mackerel’s TFI Sunday (12th August)

Mrs Mackerel's TFI Friday (12th August).

Since Friday, we’ve been in the midst of the Wilderness, just a stone’s throw from Mackerel Mansions. The atmosphere is easy-going, good-natured, anything goes – and this couldn’t be better surmised by my youngest sprat’s wry observations on life in camp. In keeping with the Happy Olympics drawing to a close today, he awarded bronze, silver and gold awards for his key festival moments…

Bronze goes to the young man (early 20s) who challenged him to a short sprint towards the main stage and then promptly fell flat on his face before high fiving Joe (aged 8) for his tactical nous. (This moment narrowly eclipsed the girls he saw pissing behind the press tent because they couldn’t wait for the enormous loo queue…)

Silver goes to the young lady in white nipple tassles having a serious conversation with her friend as we walked in yesterday. We all agreed that her bazookas lacked the necessary perkiness for the job. Joe was appalled and amused in equal measure.

Gold goes to the “savage earth” spiritual poetry recital we happened upon while searching for Bugsy Malone. Littered with expletives, delivered in a cut glass accent, you could have wrapped it in a patchouli-soaked kaftan, called it Moonbeam and burned it as incense, man. Rightly, such poncey pontificating was lost on young Joe, who giggled with feeling amongst hushed reverie of the tent. We left quickly.

Did I mention the music? Fantastic: from the fine and dandy King Charles, Willy Mason and Crystal Fighters on Friday to the magical Staves, Stornaway and Jake Bugg yesterday. And fins-a-flapping with excitement for Wilco and Giant Giant Sand tonight.