The scale of the Klaxons’ popularity, meanwhile, isn’t something you hear while the music is in progress, more something you can see for yourself. The queues extend miles out from the fringes of the tent. Messages are passed back about what a good time is being had inside.

In spite of the day’s good vibes emanating from the mainly non-rock sounds of the Radio 1 tent, it’s impossible to ignore the Lock-Up stage, and the power of Gallows. Flaming red hair, covered in tattoos, with singer Frank Carter it’s as if someone was granted three wishes, and one of them was “Create the perfect Scotsman. But make him from Watford. And loud.”

Reading on Sunday is, emotionally speaking, a game of two halves. So much so, at the start of the day it helps to imagine a line halfway between the main stage and the Radio 1 tent, where you can stand and ask yourself: “So. Do I want to be happy? Or do I want to be depressed?”

It’s probably the hottest day of the year so far. A cool breeze is blowing and the sun is blazing away – what better day to be messing about on the river with the world’s premier psych-folk artiste?

Watching Red Hot Chili Peppers on the Main Stage reminds us of catching Arctic Monkeys last year second on the bill in Leeds. The whole area is as jam packed as then, with drunken punters stretching right up to the food stalls at the side of the arena.

I’m watching Dinosaur Jnr. for the first time since their dysfunctional, tuneless, late ’90s swansong at London’s Astoria. The Red Hot Chili Peppers are about to close today’s festival and the Pumpkins due tomorrow. It’s set me thinking about what’s happened to US alternative rock since its ’91/’92 annus mirabilis.

They might have played every festival this summer, but surely that means they’ve had loads of practise…? Arcade Fire tonight showed they had more to give than the average group, putting many of the other acts to shame.

Bloc Party have been hanging around all day here, flitting in and out of the press tent, big smiles on their faces. Back in the halcyon/wilderness (delete as appropriate) years of the late 90s, Kele Okereke and Russell Lissack first met at Reading Festival and decided to form a band – tonight, then, is a sort of homecoming.

“Hello, Phoenix, Arizona!” says singer James Mercer. It truly is boiling here in Reading. There’s no shade anywhere and people are flat out (as our previous blog shows) soaking up the sun. A perfect time for the summery pop of The Shins?

Reading. Sunny? All threats of having to traverse the site via some form of boating service have thankfully gone unfounded. The sun is gracing us with some intense heat. Maybe it’s some idea of a joke from the Higher Powers, who’re having a laugh at seeing rockers donned head to toe in black get blistering sunburn.. who knows! Anyway, this afternoon’s pic blog involves those all rocked out and catching an afternoon snooze…

Jesse ‘The Devil’ Hughes raises his hand to the sky. “This is the biggest and coolest rock and roll show we’ve ever played in our motherfucking lives!”

While Razorlight headline the main stage, we caught up with some of the brighest talents this festival has to offer – Patrick Wolf and Albert Hammond, Jr.