Latitude Day 2: High camp, an X Factor star and a 'banned' MP

JEEZ, I felt knackered this morning. I must have walked miles yesterday - in ill-fitting wellies to boot - even if most of it was round in circles. I thought it'd leave it a bit later to make my way over to the festival site today; factor in a little recovery time.

As it was, I got to Henham just in time to catch the second half of the set of probably the biggest current pop star in the line-up - that giant goofball Mika.

I was a bit bemused when it emerged he was playing an "acoustic" set. Why, I thought? Thom Yorke plays an acoustic set, fine, but Mika?! It was a bit like Status Quo announcing a show without drums. I can only imagine he was worried he couldn't quite out-camp the Pet Shop Boys, and this was a way of playing things down a bit.

He was playing it down a bit too much, I thought, when I wriggled in to an Uncut Arena packed to the rafters, and swarming with children. There were kids propped up on the mixing desk and sitting on every other pair of shoulders. I couldn't see Mika on stage from my distant vantage point, but I could hear a godawful piano ballad. It was almost moving the kids to tears: "I thought this man was supposed to be fun, mummy..."

Then - BOOM! - glitter fired from cannons filled the air, Mika fended off the flakes with a silver umbrella, and a group of people wearing pointy hats at the side of the stage went loopy. So did everyone else, for one of his big hits, Big Girl. Now that is high camp of the highest campsite. The big party tunes kept coming as the big man worked himself up into a frenzy. Still not quite sure about the acoustic thing, but it was quite good fun, I have to admit. You're not going to see Thom Yorke dancing on a piano, are you?

I wandered over to the Obelisk Arena where Patrick Wolf was playing a song that sounded just like Eye of the Tiger. In fact, I think it actually was. I've heard this guy's name an awful lot, I only wish I had never heard his music. It was like scraping a violin along a pavement. I thought he looked like the blond one from McFly after being dressed up by his big sister. And, that was it,  I decided. NO MORE CAMP POP TODAY!

White Lies were much more like it. Songs about anger and death, and not one costume change. Then it was a trip over to the Uncut for the sugary sounds of Camera Obscura, although not sweet enough for former cabinet minister Geoff Hoon, who was seen leaving halfway through. And, anyway, wasn't he supposed to be banned - or at the least not welcome? I hope he didn't put his ticket on expenses.

Doves were up next on the main stage. I love Doves. Their songs just sound so strong and solid, like a well-built house. You know exactly what you're going to get. Dermot O'Leary, standing just a few feet away, seemed to be enjoying it too, when he wasn't signing balloons for children or posing with drunk, but still very polite, festival-lites. The drum bit at the end of There Goes The Fear was amazing, as always.

And so to Grace Jones, as the heavens began to open. Most of the group I was with went running for cover and Spiritualized, but I stayed put - and I'm glad I did (it didn't occur I was breaking my own no-camp rule). For all the costume changes, the between-songs babbling (from out of view, as she changed) and, oh yes, the soaking, I thought she was mesmeric. The beats swung from disco to reggae to rock, while Jones prowled the stage like a lionness as beams of light shot around her. We even got a little pole dance.

I found it difficult to pull myself away, but I did, just to grab an earful of Spiritualized, who sounded amazing. I even saw Dermot sneak in the tent to join the indie action. I truly hope to see Jimi Goodwin or Jason Pierce giving one of those masterclasses on X Factor this year.

What a great, strange day. Probably a bit too camp for my liking, but I'm going to be very serious watching Thom Yorke tomorrow, so I suppose it's best I get it out of my system.

Bring on day three...