The event:Despite the surprise appearance of sunshine, the Oxegen site still took on the appearance of one enormous muddy field.
Weeks of rain had left their mark on the ground, and as you criss-crossed from one stage/tent to the next and back again, you were left with a lasting impression: have these people no homes to go to? And if they had, would their families allow them back in?
Irrespective of the Apocalypto chic, everyone seemed to be having fun, away from the watchful eyes of those too mature and responsible to appreciate or understand.
The overriding impression was that of a mass freak-out - with mud, lots of mud.
Is this what Woodstock was like? Is this what Glastonbury is like? Probably, except with more laughs and, perhaps, a little bit more alcohol.
"I've been coming to Oxegen for years," says 23-year-old Sinead Morgan from Co Meath, "and each year it gets better and better. The mud doesn't bother me so long as no one throws any at me. And besides, if you have wellies and a plastic rain coat it doesn't matter what the weather is like. Best band so far? Scissor Sisters!"
Not caring about the weather is all fine and good if you have wellies. Walking back from the NME stage to the media centre, you could see very lonely and filthy runners apparently drowning in the mud, soles up - were their owners underneath, perhaps?
We also had the misfortune to chance upon more than one naked reveller - the funniest and least appealing was a stocky, hairy gent who covered up his credentials by strategic placing of what looked suspiciously like an Incredible Hulk toy doll.
The second was when we were reversing our car into car park number two, only to see a pair of bare buttocks (male, naturally - hello Trevor) ready, willing and very able to stop our car. Not a pretty sight.
The people manning the Edun stall were a pretty sight, however, although in what numbers Ali Hewson's environmentally and ecologically friendly clothes - making their debut festival appearance - were selling remains a mystery, as people seemed too interested in stuffing their faces with food and washing it down with pints.
Down at the main stage area for Scissor Sisters on Saturday evening, it was like a scene from a Hieronymous Bosch painting (with mud, lots of mud, remember?) where everyone felt like dancing and high stepping it with each other. Trying to get a word with someone seemed pointless, but amid the din Geraldine from Tipperary said something like "feckin' brilliant".
You'd be an intolerant person and one totally lacking in humour to disagree.
