I've got a confession to make.

I admit it, I'm a slut. Not just any slut though, I'm a festival slut. But if you think that I will now spice up your day with a few saucy little stories of how slutty I get at festivals, then it might come as a bit of a disappointment to you that I'm not actually a slut who goes to festivals. No, it's more that I throw myself at festivals the way sluts throw themselves at men. That's right, I'm a sucker for festivals. And seeing that I have left Australia right at the end of the festival season to arrive in Europe pretty much at the start of it, I'm as happy as a pig in the mud.

Speaking of mud, I'm going to Glastonbury this weekend. For a festival lover like me, Glastonbury is like the mother of all festivals, the uber-festival, the one I've always wanted to go to. And I don't even care that the weather Gods seem to hate Glasto and have decided to pour rain on it every year and turn it into a gigantic mud pit- nothing can curb my enthusiasm. I am so damn excited that I am reduced to the state of a small child the night before Christmas. And that I can't sleep tonight, although I have to catch a plane tomorrow morning early to go to London where I will meet my friend who's coming with me.

Of course this means that you lot out there will have to do without me, while I listen to Kings of Leon, Groove Armada, Fatboy Slim, Massive Attack, Panic at the Disco, Band of Horses, Sinnead O'Connor, Joan Baez, Xavier Rudd, Ben Folds, Manu Chao, Crowded House, Martha Wainwright, The Verve, Audio Bullys and about a thousand other bands. But I'm sure you can deal with that and won't be envious, right? I won't be long- I'll be back in about a week, and I might have some stories. And maybe even some photos of the slut throwing herself at the festival.