Comedy, music and mud. But mainly mud.

So Glastonbury was a success. I performed some stand up in the Cabaret Marquee alongside Arthur Smith, Simon Munnery and Isy Suttie, and really enjoyed myself. The crowd seemed to enjoy it too so I was glad that I made the effort of getting there. The journey was quite epic, involving taxis, trains, buses and lots and lots of walking through mud carrying a massive rucksack.

Within seconds of arriving at the site, I was very glad I'd invested in some proper Wellington boots and waterproof clothing. It was very wet and muddy, and it was a long walk in the rain from the entrance to the Cabaret area. I came from London with Isy, who had brought a purple suitcase with wheels that soon got bunged up with mud. It was quite funny, although I did end up being the gentleman and carrying it some of the way! It was great to have a companion who had also never been before: it felt like we were going on an adventure together.

Once we had done the gig we were free to wander around and get a sense of the place. The main thing that struck me was just how big the Glastonbury festival is. It really is massive, and can be quite overwhelming particularly if you're not sure where you are going. It's bizarrely difficult to find your way round as well. Despite all of the sign posts the stages are cunningly situated around corners and down slight hills, so they are easy to miss. Even the main Pyramid stage took a bit of finding.

It is deeply smelly, particularly near the toilets, which are predictably horrific. I was so glad to be camping in the Cabaret performers' area, which was really quite civilised in terms of facilities. However either way there is no running water, so the only way to clean your hands is by using wet wipes or antibacterial gel. That means that within a few hours your hands feel strangely sticky and not-quite clean, with dirt trapped under your fingernails. The first thing I did on getting on the train back was thoroughly wash my hands! When a train toilet feels like the height of cleanliness, you know you've been to Glastonbury.

There is a pervasive sense of friendliness at the festival which is definitely endearing. People are very smiley and chatty. There are also lots of people on drugs. Those facts may be connected.

Perhaps the most noticeable thing for me was the noise. Being there is like having tinnitus. You are constantly bombarded with music from every angle, from the stages, stereos on stalls, bands playing in cafes, etc It's hard to distinguish between all of the different sounds, but they are unrelenting. Without earplugs there is no way I'd have been able to sleep at all, as the cacophony carries on all night.

Because I was only there for one evening, I didn't get to see much actual performance. I watched some comedy. Glenn Wool was great, as was Ian Cognito, playing the final set of the night to an almost comatose audience, and yet still imbuing his performance with energy and style. I also caught some of Estelle and Jimmy Cliff, who were both fun, although Estelle did that annoying thing of playing her recent number 1 song (American Boy) and yet getting the crowd to sing most of it for her. Really badly.

I didn't go and see the first night headliners The Kings of Leon, mainly because I had never heard of them. I would have gone to see Jay-Z and the Verve if I'd still been there, but by then I was back in London doing gigs in comedy clubs with walls not made out of canvas. Maybe next year I'll stay for the whole thing, if they'll have me back!

Festival spirit

So Edinburgh suddenly feels very close. Not geographically, obviously, but temporally. And by "Edinburgh" I of course mean "The Edinburgh Festival", or more precisely "The Edinburgh Fringe", or more precisely still "My first solo show at the Edinburgh Fringe". It's a quirk of comedians that we all refer to August as "Edinburgh". I know the city exists outside of the Festival - I've been there many times - but every time I visit not during August I'm faintly surprised and disappointed, as though waking up from an amazing dream to discover a greyer, less colourful reality.

But before Edinburgh comes preview season. Previews are generally a bit of a nightmare. As the comedian you're trying to mould your material into a show, discovering flaws and ideas in front of an audience. It can be exciting but is more often than not just a bit dull and frustrating, at least until the show is basically ready. Getting an audience for a preview is very difficult. Hot weather, football, exams and various other factors conspire to make it the worst time of the year for comedy anyway, and persuading people who don't know you to come and see you for a whole hour is teeth-grindingly hard. I've been flyering at gigs I've been compering, sending out lots of emails and Facebook messages, and still I've already had to cancel two previews because barely anybody turned up. The one preview I've done went well and I'm excited about doing the show: all I need now is for audiences at all of my other previews!

Before Edinburgh I'm also doing two other Festivals, and they couldn't be more different. I'm doing a full hour at the Filey Festival in North Yorkshire, and I'm also doing a ten minute spot in a show with Arthur Smith for Radio 4 at the Glastonbury Festival. I've never been there before. In fact I've never been to a proper music festival before, so I feel a mixture of excitement and trepidation. I keep thinking about muddy fields as far as the eye can see and trench foot. Watching Radiohead in the pouring rain from the comfort of my front room, thinking "Wow, that looks unbelievably awful!" Equally, I don't like the sun very much as I burn very easily.

I'm hoping it's cloudy.

That might be why I've never been to a music festival before.