When you can honestly say you love the toilets at a festival on day three, that festival is probably something special. I love the toilets at Greenbelt.
I was hoping for murder, or at least adultery. Preferably deviant adultery. Sadly, when my friend said in church last week: 'I feel guilty', he was confessing nothing more than a day of being pampered at a luxury hotel: wonderful food, discrete but attentive service, beautiful surroundings. Luxury. 'And when we got home,' he said, 'there was the news about the East Africa famine.'