I realised that if I were to delve into the tattered remnants of Reading and Leeds festival memories, which is something I only do under duress and if absolutely necessary, like washing the car, then it isn’t really the performances that stand out. I remember my post-A-level Leeds for the burning lavatories, while as a music journalist at Reading, I recall trying to gently cajole a notoriously prickly member of an indie band into wearing a fake moustache for a photoshoot (he declined).
I can remember seeing bands I wanted to see, and bands I didn’t, and being disappointed and impressed in both scenarios. But I don’t think I have ever gone to a festival with the aim of seeing one act and one act alone.
