So sad! Swedish jazz-meisters Koop have been shunted on to an earlier slot. Which means I missed them! And their gorgeous singer, who everyone is now raving about (I'm assuming this would be Yukumi Nagano, the diminuitive Japanese beauty apparently discovered at a talent contest)... I find this out when reunited with a group of friends as we do the spaggy twizzle in front of the Radio 1 stage. It's not really a substitute for Koop but jolly good fun all the same. Sunday Best have a beautiful flowered up banner announcing their presence at the controls, and they're playing some lovely records... Devo's "Whip It", into "Last night a DJ saved my life", into some damn fine kinky disco & dirty electro sorts the Sunday blues right out. With no Koop and a cancelled Bilal (WHY? WHY?) I have a free afternoon and decide the moment to go find a massage in the healing fields draws nigh... What actually happened, though, was what usually happens when you try to do anything at Glastonbury. It didn't happen. I had a nice walk all the same, taking in all sorts of delights. Heading roughly in the direction of the greenfields, I am waylaid by two travelling songstresses, dressed in bright pink lacy garb and blonde curls, and riding a large bicycle/ rickshaw/ keyboard & PA sort of contraption... They look like they should be selling ice-cream, but no. They seem to be entertaining a small crowd with their witty repartee and curious attire, and somewhere in all the babbling they're trying to get the crowd to pick a song. "Get on with it!" shouts one youngster, albeit slightly tentatively. "Ooooh! Oooh! Get him!" they say to each other with glee. "NEVER say 'get on with it' to a street performer..." and out comes a Ming the Merciless doll, with which they proceed to taunt the wayward youth and amuse the audience. Eventually tiring of that routine, it's time for a song and they break into "I get a kick out of you", complete with Casio keyboard accompaniment and army-boot-stamping percussion. In the same field is the Garden - apparently the comfrey plants growing herein are used to make some sort of chowder, the only food grown and prepared on site. Signs warn there's no through way to the fields beyond, but I can hear some pumping sounds, and I want to know what they are, so I try to short-cut it across. Beyond the Garden is the Pond, and more signs saying no-go, but by now I can see the Glade just the other side of a ditch. Throwing caution to the wind I scramble down and up the other side, curiosity & bass lust driving me on. At last I stumble into the Glade, and it's looking a bit scatty over here... Onstage, Angry Mexican DJs are bashing out peak-time beats like there's no tomorrow, and a few mad revellers are still giving it loads. Irresistible P-funk-sampling house keeps energy levels high for a while, but the music shifts and suddenly it's running dangerously close to handbag... Time to move on, and a trip to the donut stall gives me just enough junkfood energy to get back to base camp. After all that, I'm exhausted, and a session of chilling by the camp stove is what's called for to get in the mode for our last night of fun. I wonder if I'd have been any more awake if I made it to the massage tent... Words: Marilyn Kahan

See pictures of the ladies...