Monday 27th June

10am
Another scorching day. It’s a good thing the festival’s over – we ache too much to be able to carry on. "I feel like I came in my body and I’m leaving with someone else’s", moans Rob.

1.30pm
We discover the news of Richard Whiteley’s death isn’t just this year’s ridiculous campsite rumour. The post-festival mood becomes more subdued.

3pm
An abandoned tent gently smoulders in the breeze. The Jazz World Stage flagpoles look like leafless trees, the flags themselves having been taken down. Everywhere there’s an eerie quiet. It’s time to go. In the heat of the unshaded afternoon sun we slowly make our way back to the car park. This year I’ve been particularly myopic in my exploration of the site, and I’ve also been very conservative on the food front (though my stomach is grateful for the avoidance of experimentation), but it’s still been as good a festival as I can remember.

Other Glasto reports and pictures:

Swiss Toni’s Place

Danger! High Postage

Smacked Face

Andy Pryke

Delrico Bandito

No Rock & Roll Fun (fantastic uber-post from a non-festival-goer)