Saturday's heavy rain doesn't dampen spirits at Endorse-It

I awoke early in the morning needing the loo, and as my eyes hit the bright sunshine, I cursed it and my mood was hung over, even the cubicles being way too clean, and furnished with loo paper at this early hour, didn't lighten my mood, a long drink at the water point helped.

As I went back to bed, little did I realise that sunshine should have been blessed, for soon after the patter of rain hit the tent, and I was happy as a cool, quiet, lie in beckoned. Not realising that in the words of Suzanne Vega "this rain it will continue."

I wander up to get breakfast under a gazebo at the Welsh place, before walking back passed security, a knot of large geezers at the entrance, and out into the campsite. It looks like a fair few people have had a scorchin' time, some still can't find their tents, staggering about muddy and soaked, and unwilling to have any help. I hear the occasional burst of Johnny Cash tunes from Cash Converted, which sounds great.



The rain dampens my spirits slightly, despite all the flags and bubbles, and I head back into the arena for a beer. I end up holed up in the bar, sampling the scrumpy, before my wife and daughter drag me to Punk Karaoke which was brilliant fun, and then Hobo Jones and the Junkyard Dogs who are terrific for raising spirits even after the power fails, which means I hear Subgiant are on outside and join the wet throng bouncing about to them.

More scrumpy before Fat Drunk Stupid treat us to old school punk covers and are the highlight of the day for me, and suddenly it's all gone a bit rosey in the rain, the kids field is full of bubbles and kids doing stuff. John E Vistic is hugely entertaining – he plays the guitar! who knew? Even more entertaining is the totally out of it guy rolling around in the mud, beefy security, and ambulance people eventually cart him gently off. We discover a stage in the Hurly Burly Cabaret Café, even more music, although it's a bit weird and wacky.



Bench space in the bar means more scrumpy and a loss of time until King Porter Stomp, and The Skatalites both draw my attention and I skip between the two now impervious to the rain and weave around in the liquid mud. More dual stage meanderings follow fuelled by scrumpy for Flaming Czars and The Cropdusters, which both sound to my addled brain like the Levellers. Before an exuberant display by Buzzcocks, the main attraction being their livewire guitarist who I'm sure salutes my cider exploits at some point.

A lack of navigation skills means I miss Symarip but find the campsite and the gazebo is broken in the wind, and soon so is everything I sit on, before I realise I'm totalled and stagger to bed. It's rained all day but punk music and scrumpy means I've pretty much ignored the precipitation, it seems most others have too, oh and news just in, the mobile home folk now have loos.

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