ON FIRE
Cheering the sun: All weekend, every glimpse of the sun was greeted by a giant, joyous, festival-uniting roar of approval. NB: this happened twice, tops.
Coloured beards: Part hipster, part Timmy Mallett, all Glastonbury.
Foxtail fancy dress: Take a backseat, rucksacks! Festivalgoers have a new unwieldy accessory to accidentally smash into you whenever they turn around.
Jumpers: Was the outbreak of knitwear this year confirmation that normcore has infiltrated the mainstream, or just a sign that it got a bit nippy out?
Michael Eavis lookalikes: Remember, the real Michael Eavis is very busy at this time of year. That bald bearded middle-aged man you've just walked past in the Healing field is probably one of his helpers.
Remembering Rik Mayall: Between all the flags and the mural in the Glade, one of Glastonbury's most ubiquitous faces was also the most missed.
WASHED OUT
The onesie: after near ubiquity last year the comedy all-in-one leisurewear tracksuit seems to have been relegated to pyjama-wear only.
Prince rumours: No, he hasn't come all the way from Minneapolis to do a 17-minute set in the Acoustic tent. But keep telling yourselves that he has.
Head dresses: The most delightfully colourful way to demonstrate your colossal racial insensitivity since the year everyone wore psychedelic Al Jolson masks.
Metallica: Hey guys, not all Brits are foxhunting toffs.
The Dolly dance: Everyone was supposed to do a synchronised dance when Dolly Parton played Jolene. But nobody knew how it went. Never before has a flashmob created such widespread anxiety.
Selfie sticks: This year's essential twatcessory – a stick that helps you take photos of yourself from a distance. This really exists.
