I think the main problem is the headliners; Kings Of Leon and The Verve are both headlining other festivals, so I expect most people will just go to see these acts there, for a cheaper price. I've never really heard of Jay-Z, is he a brand of washing powder or an alien characer off a Star Wars film?
For those who want to see many diverese acts, nothing comes close to Glastonbury, but I think blaming the weather for slow tickets is a poor excuse. There are just too many festivals these days as well. I wouldn't be surprised if my local council organised a music festival for the re-opening of the public toilets in my village.

and I salute you for it, Sir. Don LongJuan sends his regards, and asks me to point out that they're nearly all full grown milkers, not heifers.

Glasters (as any hippie fule kno it) started going downhill in the manner you describe long, long before anyone called Bee&Q or whatever it is was even recording er, music.

Around the mid 1980s the little home-built food, drink, t-shirt and dodgy cassette stalls all got swept away in favour of those ghastly identikit cream and green coloured van/stalls you see at every big outdoor event these days, from F1 at Silverstone to your local Steam Rally.

Once the cost of a pitch went through the roof, The Man started taking over the merchandising, and the vibrant eclecticism of the whole place began to dissipate.

It wasn't only the stalls that changed, there seemed to be a general sea change in attitude. I watched aghast one year as hired copyright thugs descended upon a little bootlegger's stall, roughly snatching umpteen boxes of bright dayglo-orange-labelled cassettes of that day's Pyramid Stage sets, which had been run-off and boxed somewhere else on site during the afternoon. They were assisted by local plod who frankly didn't look like they gave a rat's arse about some hastily recorded D90's of Television (great set!) or Van the Man (also well worth a fiver - cheers lads, hope the fine wasn't too onerous).

I can understand why the commercialisation happened; more money for the festival causes, less hassle sending the health and safety officers round every single amateur stall on the Thursday, and again to make sure the message had got home, on Friday, and on Saturday, and so on (we had to have "No Smoking" signs up in the "kitchen area" of our tent stall while we made punter's bacon butties for feck's sake), less risk of some stoned entrepreneur blowing up a tureen of lava-lentils and scalding half of Surrey's bright young things, togged up like crustys for the weekend.

But it was a shame. The ramshackle days were on their way out, and it was a tide that wasn't for turning.

I'm still going, but this year might be my last. I may have to make alternative arrangements, as it were. We've got a couple of acres on the outskirts of the village here, so you never know...

My formative festival experiences unfortunately ruined me for the corporate horseshit that passes for festies nowadays.

I managed to survive for 4 days at Stonhenge in 1984 with £10 and a packet of biscuits- people gave me food! Free! For nothing! Yes, I watched Hawkwind play, tripping my nuts off as the sun rose slowly through the stones. We wondered over the road, watched the druids do their druid-y thing and chuckled as one of only a handful of policemen tried in vain to persuade the hippy with the chillum to please climb down off one of the standing stones before he hurt himself. He was probably thinking 'i'll kick the shit out of you next year sonny, you wait and see'. and of course he duly did.

Other halcyon memories include the wonderful elephant fair in Cornwall - some landed gentry type just let his country pile and back garden - the most glorious manicured lawns and gardens, victorian follies included - be used for a wonderful weekend of lounging around and eating far too many falafels. Somewhat incongruously Killing Joke played the most intense set i ever saw them do - completely incredible!

We went again the next year which would have been 86 i think and a friend I went with had the entire contents of his tent nicked. Suddenly loads of wankers turned up selling henna and oregano and generally pissing people off and killing the good vibes. I think that was the beginning of the end for me.

Went to and played at a few of the glasters in the next few years - and yes even sold home made veggie burgers from our old ambulance - but nothing ever came close to those few scorchingly hot beautiful days in Wiltshire.