I think I'm generally pretty hard to please. I can be prudish towards chemical transgression, my heart sinks at social archetypes, but without chaos, freedom and “spasmodic” dancing, its just not a party.

Who knew that even my picky palate was catered for this summer, in an enclave of 6000 merrymakers between Abbots Ripton and Kings Ripton, The Secret Garden Party 2007.

We, the Platforms delegation, arrived at Huntingdon station and immediately felt the festival atmosphere, a mixer of comradarey and checking each other out. So after we'd seen who was cool enough to get a taxi with us (a Harvard student), we were sweeping through glorious English country side to our discretely located festival. A little nervous as we pitched our tents as to what mother nature had in store for us; especially Roy, with his single skinned, slightly flaccid chrome dome. We donned our wellys and made for the action.

Quite a small festival but very efficiently formed, with an eclectic selection of stages. And a tree covered in bread, the moon, and plenty of ducklings. The mornings were a little slow but as the day went on and twilight approached, the landscaped quagmire was darkened from our minds and the parties surrounding the lake, luminous like liquid moonlight thanks to the UV painted trees surrounding it, whipped up the revelry and fun really began.

“Where The Wild Things Are”, always seemed to be buzzing, I had a couple of those spasmodic dancing moments there to acts like, Metronomy with a very well choreographed set and Bijoumiyo on Thursday night, whose tight funk, incredible lead singer and superb drummer really got the crowd gyrating.

The “Centre Camp”, played host to, among others, a poetry slam, members of the RSO string quartet doing everything from The Kinks to Britney Spears all arranged by the lead violinist, his little pop culture passion. And my personal favourite being “The Living Room”, The transplanted living room of a Landed Baron. In which, one could enjoy tea, crumpets and acoustic sets while luxuriating on the numerous sofas. Highlights included, the lovely Laura Groves with a beautiful voice and fresh, simple, delicately nostalgic songs and The Park Bench Poet, whose spoken word poetry and acoustic rhythms were really great. Other stages included a floating dance floor, the Luniverse where more spasmodic dancing could be found, to often cheesy pop. And a dance tent etc.

The main stage or “Great Stage” as it was known, had some good acts. During the afternoon one could recline on the gentle slope in front to acts like I'm from Barcelona whose merry indie-pop brought a smile to the revellers. But a very exciting moment was when the crowd were bombarded with multicoloured plastic balls during an already very good Kitty, Daisy and Lewis set.

Breakfast was great, in fact all the food was great, North African, Indian, Spanish, Mexican, incredible falafel, and delectable sausages, most organic, most locally sourced and even tasty but all on the expensive side not bad value but there was a lack of a cheaper option. There was also delicious dry Cider on tap, and Chai, perfect Chai

For those not needing to hear absolutely everything there were plenty of extra curricular activities to pass the time with, in fact maybe more of a draw than much of the music. Mud Wrestling, an epic Sock Wrestling tournament, some bizarre and dangerous sporting events, I saw people riding down a hill on a tricycle into oil drums a practice requiring a surprising amount of skill. People had the opportunity to invent and break records and my favourite the human deck of cards, once formed Chase the Ace was spectacular. I was the ace.

I think the Secret Garden Party managed their transcendent weekend. I for one was swept up in the tomfoolery. I was pleased to not take everything so seriously though maybe at the expense of absorbing as much music as physically possible. A great, wholesome experience.