Michael Tanner’s Glyndebourne experience is ruined by the traffic

What could be more delightful than going to Gyndebourne with someone who has never been before, arriving in time for a Figaro or Ha-Ha Tea at the Mildmay Hall, taking a stroll round the grounds, which incidentally have been considerably changed this year, and for the better (though the slightly alarming jungle near the opera house is still thriving in its sinister way), then going in for the first half of the opera, suitable exclamations from the newgoer about how enchanting it is, what wonderful sightlines, perfect temperature, and so forth, then in the long interval going to the Nether Wallop for the superb buffet, returning unbuttoned for the second half, and driving — in my case, being driven — tired but relaxed and stimulated home?

That’s what one imagines. Occasionally it’s like that, and, provided it’s at least a decent performance of a worthwhile piece, you’ll get back and feel that the day has been well spent, and I suppose the money too: critics are spoilt in that respect.