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“There is absolutely no other place on earth I would rather be.” That was the reassurance I gave myself trudging home across a peaceful Glastonbury morning.

Last night I got lost in the woods and watching a group of druids perform a morning ritual round a fire. Trust me, there’s no fucking Brexit chat in the world that’s gonna stop those guys. But the mood here is sad. It’s devastatingly sad in fact. People are visibly shaken and like a bad fart the news that we’ve woken up in a different country has spread around the room fully souring pretty much everybody’s demeanour in its wake.

Though the pick me up operation is in full swing, you feel this one runs slightly deeper than getting battered on the moonshine and forgetting your troubles. But fuck it right? We’re at Glastonbury. The best festival in the world. Skepta has just taken grime to the Pyramid Stage for the first time ever and later on we’re planning on getting fully stuck in. Our country might have lost the plot but this festival has always existed outside of the parameters of normal sentient life. We’re going to fully soak up every bloody thing it has to offer. Stay tuned.