An eerie hush descends across the fields of Jodrell Bank as an announcement rings out to an expectant crowd waiting for Bjork at the Bluedot Festival finale. "At the request of Bjork please do not photograph or video, this is distracting," a curt voice explains, "Please live in the here and now."
"Yeah good luck with that one," I cackle loudly to my friend as we await the arrival of the Icelandic singing superstar. A little too loudly it transpires - as what feels like a hundred heads swivel around to give me a death stare.
Clearly I had misjudged the mood of an obsessed crowd of Bjork fans around me - as to my utter surprise everyone incredibly, obediently, comply with the no phone rule as they all stare up in rapt adoration at their trailblazing music idol. She floats out onto stage wearing a typically bold ensemble - what might best be described as an intergalactic space worm crossed with an inflated Victorian school ma'am.
