If you haven't tried to get tickets before, you should know that it is not the most simple of processes. That's an understatement - it is horrible. You have to get up early and battle against every other sane human in the UK, and God knows where else, who knows the importance of securing their tickets to Worthy Farm next June no matter what the cost.
Here I am at Glastonbury, watching festival-goers streaming through the gates as they begin a weekend of music-filled hedonism. Before most of them drink an orchard's-worth of cider and settle into an incoherent, yet joyful, haze, I thought I would talk to a few of them to give Huffington Post a live update on the chatter of who the festival-goers are most looking forward to seeing.
To those of you that are in mourning because you couldn't get your hands on a golden ticket, I put this to you: you are better off at home. Beautiful green fields were churned into plastic bogs and desecrated with abandoned tent poles, sleeping bags and more cups than I could stomach. By the end of the weekend it was like the aftermath of an epic battle.