Hot Rod wears it well as the greatest Glastonbury showman

As with all things - from what you like with your chips to what colour to wear with pink - music is a matter of taste.

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I'd rather embroider my ears shut then listen to any individual or band that take to any stage, any year, at Glastonbury.

I would not cross the road to see Pulp, have never heard of most of them, let alone listened to them.

Except the 'Legends' spot. I have screamed belters with Shirley Bassey, shouted 'That don't impress me much' with Shania Twain and cursed Ruby and Lucille with Kenny Rogers.

I would cross the Rubicon with Julius Caesar to see Sir Rod Stewart sing one song, let alone a 75-minute set which, by his standards, was short by at least 15 minutes.

Grabbing the hairbrush, I switched on BBC One on Sunday, stood in front of my TV and from the first sound of bagpipes to the closing nautical salute, I sang-along to every number and embraced every single, glorious second of Sir Rod's hit-filled set.