The perfect Glasto warm-up

I’m standing in the middle of a sunny field. My head is bowed down in a crowd. A heavy bass-line thumps in time to my quickening heart beat. I scrabble around for a balloon filled of dry paint. Every time I think I see one, a burst of colour obliterates my vision. Yellow, orange, blue; by the time I raise my head to the sunshine I am a Pollock-esque masterpiece. I’ve just experienced the paint fight at HogSozzle – an Indian Festival of Colours in a field near Stevenage…

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