‘I went to Tom Kerridge’s festival – Olly Murs gyrated and I ditched it for Wetherspoons’

I was expecting to be counting the measly (probably rosemary coated) chips I would be getting for the grand price of £20-something, though that was not the reality.

It’s safe to say I didn’t spot any re-mortgage worthy spuds. However, a lot of stalls, operated by local restaurants/pubs, were generally serving the likes of burgers for about £10 and sides for £7.

To be fair, that is pricey but not unusual for the current climate of festival food.

And all the food that I tasted was decent, I wouldn’t say mouth-watering – but it was certainly a lot better than your average field shenanigan grub.

Choosing what food to get from what vender was hard though – that’s because everything was pretty much priced the same and everything smelt delicious. Unfortunately, I only have one stomach.

Although I had a paper map for navigation, it was hard to make a choice without having to do several laps around the vicinity.

On the board of each food stall was a ‘pub special’, which appeared to be the premium item priced around a steeper £12. Though the £7 confit duck taco it was for me.

The portion didn’t look huge but it was certainly filling.

Alike me, Tom did get his steps in on Saturday. Although the face of the festival, I thought he might have made one appearance and dipped out.

Tom spent the day at various talks, podcasts and demonstrations – he didn’t shy away from being seen at the festival.

It looks like Tom was in his element. No, not charging ridiculous prices for jacket potatoes but talking about food and genuinely seeming passionate about answering questions from those who paid anywhere from £45-£310 to attend the festival.

If you have a general ticket, priced at the lower end of that spectrum, then you still have to pay for food and drink on top of that – VIP tickets get you some food tokens and a drink on entry. A pint of lager cost £6.50, a glass of wine £7 and a cocktail between £10-£12.

In comparison to other festivals I’ve been to this year, i.e. Reading, the prices were not totally offensive – plus they did a decent and sizeable spicy marg (so I can’t complain).

Onto one of the moments of the festival where I had to keep pinching myself to make sure I’m not in some fever dream – and no it wasn’t Olly Murs gyrating on his mic pole (we’ll get to that).

Sauce and hype man Levi Roots took to the stage for a set where he mainly swayed side to side, periodically shouted ‘come on now who likes reggae’ and would pick someone to give a bottle of his sauce every now and then.

What have I done with my life to get to the point where I’m standing in a crowd trying to impress Levi Roots so he would give me some of his sauce? I could literally get a bottle for £2.30 in Tesco – maybe even less with a Clubcard…

But here I was shaking my hips to Sean Paul and Shaggy for some free Reggae Reggae Sauce. The mums were loving it, the kids couldn’t get enough and I soon too became infatuated with Levi and his stage sauce.

Though, I obviously didn’t have the moves or the convincing cackle of a glittery-faced over 40s mum. By the end of his very fun set, I was left sauce-less – and so were many disappointed mums who I had a boogie with.

To make this fever dream even more feverish, Levi started giving out branded plastic bags. ‘Why am I screaming at Levi Roots for a plastic bag’, a firm question I had to ask myself.

The hour of fun and sauce hysteria was over. It was time for Scouting For Girls – or as I like to call them Scouting For Middle Class Mummies.

The British Indie band delivered a stellar hour of nostalgia with hits like She’s So Lovely, Elvis Ain’t Dead and Heartbeat. They might not of had sauce or carrier bags to give out, but oh did the St Albans crowd go wild.

These suburban mums usually go berserk for artisanal bread, but now they’re on the verge of mosh pitting at 4pm. Scenes we all love to see.

After an hour of classic British indie hits, it was time to get ‘kicked out’. No, not because I charged the barriers to battle a home counties mum for a Levi Roots branded plastic bag.

Everyone had to leave in order for the team to clear the grounds and to make sure that those with the afternoon tickets could leave. That means it was one of two choices – either awkwardly hover outside or head to a pub.

And I most certainly ditched Pub in the Park for Wetherspoons. Actual cheap booze and cheap food. I felt more at home here and could have quite happily stayed at the budget watering hole.

A couple of hours had passed and it was back to the evening slot of Pub in the Park. Time for more food. I went for some chicken and chips topped with what ever fancy sauce is ‘in’ right now.

It did the job and it was only £7, so cannot complain there. But, I do think about the comfort of the small plates of ‘Spoons.

I then stumbled across a demonstration of DJ BBQ and friends – where two blokes did a press up competition while another grilled meat.

How very ‘man’.

Now time for what everyone, mainly the mums, have been waiting for – ultimate mummy magnet, Olly Murs. The singer and presenter is to middle aged mums what Oasis is to bucket hat middle aged dads, a modern day biblical figure.

Olly certainly knew his baying crowd, and did not spare on the hip thrusts and microphone pole gyrating. As Scouting For Middle Class Mummies sang, Elvis Ain’t Dead?

Murs’ hits and hips weren’t enough to make me stay. Nothing against Olly I just needed to get away from the crowd and seek solace in something a little less middle class and middle age mum.

Onto a DJ tent – or gazebo – where me, my friend and couple of stray anti-Murs mums all raved to Ibiza Classics.

And that’s what festivals are about – stuffing your face, boozing and making friends in the most random of places with unexpected people.

All in all, Pub in the Park was a blast, it did all feel a bit like a fever dream though. But, I like that.

Tom, we might not be able to forgive you for your ridiculously priced spuds but we have to say that you do put on quite the good bash in a field.