WHERE WE WERE TO (DOWN WILTSHIRE WAY)

Where are we to? At the Woods stage watching tUnE-yArDs.

I made a bit of a hoo ha on social media a couple of weeks ago about printing some signs to take to End of the Road festival so our friends could find us. So, lest you all think that it's nothing more than a group of people talking West Country (as in 'Where's he to then?' or 'Where are you camping to?'), I thought I'd share a bit of the good times. I'm no impartial reviewer (I just love the festival, and I've been 6 times), nor do I know how to succinctly categorise music genres, but, hey, I can recognise fun when I've had it!

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Singing-in-the-shower karaoke corner

Set in the beautiful and slightly Victorian-eccentric surroundings of the Larmer Tree gardens, End of the Road is pretty special before the music even starts (oh, so that's why we had to arrive so ridiculously early then? No, just over-eager husband). Around the garden stage are prettily lit paths through woods, filled with art installations, little people, straw bears, libraries and surprise stages. The food and drink on offer is well chosen, fresh and delicious. The shops are ethical and interesting. And I'll come on to the toilets in a bit...

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So these are a few of the best bits:

St Vincent: That woman is some sort of super-species of human. It's not just that she can sing, looks like a beautiful well groomed mannequin and has absolutely perfected dancing like a robot. She also managed to take 10 minutes falling down some steps and ending up legs in the air and made it sexy! Now if I did that...

Ezra Furman and the Boy Friends: Raucous yet deep, bleak and exciting - all I knew of Ezra Furman and co before was that I'd jotted down the name on my printing table after hearing them on 6music once (that's my equivalent of playlister), but I came out a big fan. At one point Ezra left the stage and reappeared on the old theatre stage, then continued back through the crowd without missing a beat.

Man with lots of pens: We accosted the saxophone playing Boy Friend after the gig for an autograph, only to find no one had a pen. Then a man appeared as if by magic, saying 'Did you need a pen?' and opened his jacket to display a whole row of different colours. Wonder how long he waits for opportunities like that. (Next time though, pen-man, a sharpie would be useful for shiny CD covers).

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Perfume Genius: I missed the main gig, but got to see the intimate 'secret gig' on the comedy stage in the woods. Disarmingly gentle and vulnerable, he played a small set of covers and his own songs, linked with modest shrugs and the nearest he'll ever get to hilarious banter. Beautiful. ('Is this funny?' asked my daughter, 'Why is this the comedy stage?')

Other good music: tUnEyArDs; John Grant; Adult Jazz; The Radiophonic Workshop; Stealing Sheep; Cate le Bon... oh and more I'm sure.

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The Forest Disco: A disco in a forest (with lit up disco floor and everything) is good, especially when you get to see three of your men friends who never dance boogying til the sweat drips. But when you're singing 'Where's me jumper?' on the way there and then it's the first thing the DJ plays it feels like your night!

My new necklace, from zincwhite - all made from recyled derwent pencil crayons. Wayne from Flaming Lips also bought one of these, but that wasn't why I did. 

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Seeing strangers wearing Lost Shapes t-shirts: Never fails to get me excited, but at least we resisted accosting them.

The new Andyloos: They're big; they have a kind of suction thing so you don't have to look at other people's poo or smell those horrible blue chemicals; they have reassuring rows of loo roll visible from the door before you commit; cleaners go round sweeping them out and emptying waste paper bins; they have a mirror and hooks and they're white. White! That's almost luxury spa style. I might get one in the garden to save me cleaning the bathroom.