I know I wrote in this column a few years ago about how I should get myself down to Glastonbury - I think I was inspired by a lady in her 80s who'd headed there for the first time.

I've still not made it, for various reasons. I think my patience trying to get tickets would be tested to its very limits. The ultimate truth is though, I'd never cope with the Portaloos; I've still not got over my phobia.

But, in my defence, at least I know my limitations - and I enjoy sitting in the comfort of my own home, Labrador at my feet, glass of something chilled in my hand, singing along to the songs I know!

Pulp were amazing, Jarvis Cocker channelling the fashion sense of a 1970s Geography teacher, and belting out the hits I remember from my copy of 'Different Class' in the 1990s.

Alanis Morissette brought the best of angst-fuelled female rage wrapped up in pop songs to her set, and I was straight back to the mid 90s, with 'Jagged Little Pill' cassette playing on repeat on my Sony Walkman personal stereo.

I thought Brandi Carlile was fab, and I hadn't heard much of her stuff before.

But surprise of the weekend for me was Rod Stewart - or Sir Rod as I guess I should call him. Now, I wouldn't really consider myself a fan - although I did admire his stance on fixing pot-holes, and the fact that he donated money to the model train collectors who had their sets smashed by vandals in Stamford.

I've since read a review of his set which said it resembled a Las Vegas nightclub and was a bit cheesy - to which I can retort, show some respect! The guy sang for almost an hour and a half, he was an absolute professional - as were all his singers and musicians - it was blisteringly hot and he was dancing around like he was in his 30s, when he is in fact 80!

His rendition of 'Love Train' was a lesson to others in how to do politics without causing controversy; 'Maggie May' got the whole crowd singing; and 'Sailing' was a fitting end to what was a wonderful show. Hats off Sir Rod!