Sunday night I was not, I must admit, watching Kasabian on the BBC’s coverage of Glastonbury. Instead, I was… well, gripped would be the wrong word, but somehow compelled to watch every last hideous minute of the match between Greece and Costa Rica, a game that acted as kind of evil payback for all the good football karma this World Cup has accrued. Applying this logic to rock music, a friend pointed out, I probably should have been watching Kasabian, too.

The witching hour draws near on Sunday night in Glastonbury. Time for local heroes Massive Attack to bring the noise to the Other Stage before it goes dark for another year.

Sunday evening, with the finish line in sight, and Glastonbury has still got the blues.

With Glastonbury building up to its grand blow-out finale, now is the time to tick off the traditional Sunday evening checklist.

Mid afternoon at Glastonbury, and anticipation for the traditional Sunday singalong slot is tangible.

So it turns out John Lennon was right after all. You really can get a tan from standing in the English rain.

Scowling down from the Other Stage, the Pixies are not looking for our love.

Jack White did not come to Glastonbury for the magical healing vibes. Good.

Glastonbury can be a cruel mistress, punishing us with her ever changing moods. This morning brought thunderbolts and lightning, very very frightening. Now the sun is ablaze across the festival, and the pre-Metallica mood is incongruously mellow to the max.

Who's got the cleanest boots in the rain-sodden, mud-slicked Vale of Avalon this weekend? Kelis, that's who.