The All-day Breakfast Baguette - tasty but not easy to eat. Photograph: Emma Kiwanuka.
The food at Glastonbury is a glorious mashup of world cuisine and the triumph of hope over experience.
To kick things off in the time-honoured festival tradition of greasy fry-ups, on Thursday morning I plumped for an All-day Breakfast baguette from the festival kitchen by the Queen's Head in the Other field.
£5 buys you a foot-long sub containing a slightly menacing sausage, a fried egg, bacon and mushrooms, which as the name suggests takes almost a day to consume. It hit the spot as far as filling a hole went, and all that fat has the added advantage of increasing personal buoyancy in case we're flooded out.
After an afternoon mooching around the site and craving more calories to replace those lost in the mud, we had dinner courtesy of the Pilton Porker. A full half pound of beef topped with stilton and brandy and served with salad can be yours for a fiver. I say served with because I found the salad in the bottom of the bag after I'd eaten the burger. Mind you, this is luxury camping.
Friday dawns and overnight rain has turned the site into slow oozing rivers. Undeterred, we seek an early lunch down the hill from the our camp and find the Flaming Cactus hard by the old railway line with a view of the Other stage,
Chilli con carne with grated cheese, jalapenos and sour cream for £5 - result. Except as we queue the skies open, hosing the already bedraggled crowd and washing their accumulated mud downwards towards their wellies. What is, considering the apocalyptic conditions, a pretty good chilli, with juicy peppers and tasty yellow rice, is eaten huddled against a menu board before it gets washed away as the rain pounds and Modest Mouse strike up down the hill.
After Amy Wineshouse we drift with the squelching crowd back past the Dance area, mud-skipping from the metal roadway to a caravan boasting Belgian waffles. Another high-internsity burst of carbs follows - this time golden yellow with dark chocolate sauce, and served with a watery coffee that would make a real Belgian cry into his moules.
In a happy fug of sugars we finally collapse at our campsite, replete but resolving to make tomorrow's eating a healthier experience.
