This is now, obviously. Last night was much darker.

Last night when wandering through the Secret Gardens listening to Josh Ritter floating over the trees, we followed strings of lights to a grotto with a piano set up in it. People would randomly drop in and out and play, and we must have been overflowing with festival spirit because we sang with some of them. What a nice idea anyway, and very good for people who are too malco to play in the drumming circle (namely, us.)

We've been steering well clear of the Choc Star bus and its plethora of gorgeous things, but unfortunately our greed vastly outweighs our self-restraint. If it were possible to frame an ice cream combination, raspberry and white chocolate would be on our wall right now: utterly perfect and totally yum.

It's given us the necessary energy to climb through the packed Bimble Inn tent to grab a bit of floor before Suburban Kids With Biblical Names start their set. Even if they're terrible, we will love them because of their name alone. Ooh, they're on now. Jingly jangly tunes, whistling, beats from an iPod they've plugged into a mic and a nice line in straight faced crazy dancing, it's all good fun to watch. The crowd are going mental.