Of course, over the past couple of decades other grass-based summer activities have found their niche in the hearts of the British. Forty years ago, a dairy farmer with a taste for the blues decided to host a free music festival on his land. And forty years later, you can pay the price of a small Tuscan villa for a ticket and enjoy all the delights of trudging through mud with your loo roll in hand to queue (yes, we don't like to leave anyone out) with thirty thousand others for the one working portaloo on the site. And showers, well, they're for wimps. Whack on your wellies and get sloshed whilst sliding around a field in your most stylish "I may work in Canary Wharf but I'm a hippy at heart" three thousand quid distressed t-shirt and shorts.
And remember that you have to get there first. Along the never-intended-for-heavy-traffic single file A roads. Good luck to you all.