Latitude: Matt Hunter reflects on a sleepless second night after Damon Albarn headlines

Latitude 2014

Latitude 2014 - Credit: Nick Butcher

Wide awake I sit listening to the sound of a hippopotamus.

Latitude master Melvin Benn has not magicked up some new sound wiz, no, there’s a man snoring so loud he wouldn’t need a microphone on stage.

My head is a buzz with music, dehydration and this. Will someone not put him out of his misery and hold his nose and cover his mouth? He can’t have a partner with this racket.

There’s one note going over and over again and this has been going on for an hour.

And now we have the heat. Last night it rained so much I thought Russell Crowe and his Noah’s Arc would appear. But there was no silver screen reckoning. Instead the deluge gave the campers mud to wade through.


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Ill-prepared hat-wearing men and women walked in flip flops and some crazed individuals in bare feet.

Chests on display, drinks drunk, the hunt for an open bar at 2.30am was on.

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Discos played in all four corners; there were even rumours Harry Potter’s Emma Watson was here.

As the clock struck 3.30am I left for bed exhausted. With no more legs I collapsed in my tent ready for day three.

The 21st century’s Fleetwood Mac are here, Haim. Driving rock band Tame Impala and the biggest up-and-coming star in the country, George Ezra, will play.

As long as the sun doesn’t get me I’ll survive.

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