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I have developed (or perhaps caught) the recyclers’ instinct.

I’ve lived a life fairly sheltered from drugs in little rural Newport. So Glastonbury came as something of a surprise.

I realise that it’s something of a Glastonbury cliché to talk about the mud, but I think it would be remiss of me not to mention it.

After the briefest of sojourns at the family home, today was the day I departed for Glastonbury.

Photography, mime and Jesus.

Correlation does not always imply causation, as any even slightly good statistician knows.

I am nursing a burgeoning addiction to “feta snacks”.

Today was Good Friday.

I hope I really confused a man in a sandwich shop today.