Arrived last night at 10pm- just at the point the heavens opened and lighting started flashing across the sky. Heard distant screams from the festival area so went over to investigate (thank god I stopped at b&q to buy wellies on the drive up). Found swarms of teenagers partying in the woods, dancing to the tunes of a stoic dj and treating each bolt of lightning like the arrival of a new band on stage.

Eventually made it to the literature tent, where Luke Roberts was keeping a packed house amused with leftfield literary one-liners (eg ‘moral of the fox and the stork- don’t rub foxes in butter).

Meanwhile in the theatre tent, a small but loyal contingent were enjoying the tail end of Ken Campbell’s School of Night. The sight of the band of five educating their audience in the history of iambic pentameter and improvising in a Chaucerian style was truly heartwarming, particularly when they paid special tribute to their fallen leader. And what better testament to Campbell than this fine troupe of performers freestyling a poem about an audience member who was a bubble-maker from Aberyswyth at 12.30am (that really was the info he provided). And their finishing number, an improv duet in the style of Thom Yorke and Nick Cave - two of the healiners here - acted as a fitting curtain-up for Latitude 09.

Let’s just hope it dries up; navigating home through the woodland paths at 1am was akin to crossing a WW1 battlefield.

NB This was written on a phone so please excuse any sloppy punctuation. More soon once the press tent is (finally) open.

- Theo Bosanquet

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