From the moment your boots hit the grounds of Houghton Hall, your phone is rendered useless. The rural Norfolk parklands that surround the namesake property – originally built for Britain’s first Prime Minister, Sir Robert Walpole – remain disconnected from the outside world throughout the three-day music and arts festival, a deliberate choice by organisers who want punters to be “present”. Seriously, grabbing the WiFi password here is harder than breaking out of Alcatraz.
And it works. With your mobile suddenly as useful as an obsidian brick, people are forced to talk, connect, look around. While the majority of attendees flock to the festival for its bountiful 24-hour dance music programming (more on that later), Houghton is also one of the most singular, visually pleasing festivals in the UK. Not in a Boomtown or Tomorrowland way, where elaborate stages are painstakingly crafted to delight those with already-expanded pupils, but in a tasteful way, unlike any other festival setup I’ve come across.
