We could be at Glasvegas. But instead, we're being devious. We're waiting for Of Montreal to finish. For the crowd to pour out of the Red Bull Tent, so we can take our positions up the front.
Of Montreal finish. The crowd does not pour out. Shit. These people are being devious too.
We fight our way in to a certain pont within the tent. We can't see the stage so we push forward a bit further. We still can't see.
An excited chatter builds. A girl in a gimp mask draws whiskers on our faces and initiates us into a growing number of cat-faces. Someone is blowing bubbles.
The roadies come on stage. Everyone cheers.
A girl gets up on her friend's shoulders. Everyone boos.
9:45 comes and goes. More boos.
At 9:51, Florence and the Machine take to the stage. Lit from behind, shrouded in dry ice, we can just about make out Flo's bushy-haired silhouette.
'Between Two Lungs' opens the set. The album has been out a week. How does everyone know all the words?
The opening bars of 'Dog Days Are Over' induce mild hysteria. The Machine are creating a beautiful racket. People are jumping, screaming, singing and clapping. Flo's pitch-perfect vocal soars above it all.
Surely it doesn't get much better than this?
It's twinkly harps. It's pounding drumbeats. It's a woman's voice plunging depths and scaling heights. It's hundreds of people crammed into a bizarre looking tent experiencing this. It's just as many outside, straining to hear. It's a reminder of why we come from far and wide to gather in a mucky field. It's the reason I'm up writing at 3am the night before I begin a new job.
It's cosmic, love.