Are music festivals better with children?

‘Dad, later, shall we go and see the Vaccines?’ says Boy.

‘Yeah, er, sure,’ I say, trying not to sound as enthusiastic I feel. It’s not the Vaccines I’m interested in; all their songs sound the same, a louder variant on the three chords which open Blondie’s ‘Denis’ (Denee). Rather it’s the joy of realising that, at 12, Boy is still young enough — just — not to feel totally embarrassed at being seen to enjoy rock music in the company of his lame old dad.

We’ve come to the Latitude Festival at Henham Park in Suffolk, me, the Fawn, Boy, Girl and a whole posse of friends, and it’s a very exciting moment for all of us. Two years ago the kids found it a terrible drag. This time, though, they’ve finally hit the age when they’re totally up for it — eagerly scanning the line-up, relishing being allowed to run loose amid crowds of perhaps 35,000, digging the amazing hippy tat on the stalls and discovering that in festival world no one judges you for the way you look, that on the contrary the weirder you look the better.