Michael Bonner

"She's not to blame!" sings one of Joss Stone's backing singers. Possibly she's exonerating her lead singer from the inclement weather, that's now reached torrential proportions. Looking at the waterlogged state of the fields round here, I suspect that it might not be the Mersey alone that you'll need a ferry to cross later this evening.

Coming back to Knowlsey Hall today, Picture Editor May and I find a few things have changed...

"You couldn't bury 'em, could ya..?" So says a genial Scally, somewhat glassy-eyed after an afternoon on the booze and on the scrounge for a cigarette.

OK, it's getting very exciting backstage. The biggest tour bus in the world has just hoved into view, and a suited chap, who looks like he probably knew the Krays back in the day, is purposefully standing in front of the door.

"Don't start! This is my best shirt. And me mum's dead..."

Hey, more festival fun to come... Our intrepid picture editor, May, and myself are off to Knowsley Hall tomorrow morning, and we'll be bringing you blogs and news from this latest addition to the growing list of festivals, located in the grounds of a stately home outside Liverpool.

Out of all the burger-chain owning, cigar-chewing Eighties' action heroes, Bruce Willis was always the one I had the most time for.

Apart from all the music at last year's Latitude Festival -- and the comedy, the cabaret the poetry, and the gentle rummage through the Sunday papers in the Literary Arena -- I was naturally inclined towards the doings in the Film Arena.

... Or: Where's this year's Great American Indie flick?

It ends, pretty much, with fireworks and Sinatra, somewhat appropriate, you would think, for a film series that privileges Vegas cool over substance like the Oceans movies do.