The majority of today is spent lazing by the lake outside of the Pimms bus which has fast become our favourite place to snooze in the sunshine and watch the punts float by from the comfort of a deckchair, plastic glass of Pimms in hand. We manage to drag ourselves over to the Obelisk Arena in time to catch Foals' set, who are just about as knackered as we are, they tell us, following a sleepless night on an overnight flight from Spain where they did a gig and got in a fight with Johnny Rotten (and we thought you were such nice boys?). 'Cassius' and 'Red Socks Pugie' are trashed out with half their usual vigour, poor old Yannis looks like he is just about to keel over, it's a bit of a disappointment that the sprightly young Foals are playing more like knackered out old donkeys tonight, but we dance on regardless.

Next up is Lykke Li in the Sunrise Arena, at sunset, in the heart of the Latitude woods, this is the perfect setting in which to watch her seeing as she is more Sprite than human and her shrill squeaks ricochet through the trees. She seems a bit disappointed that the crowd aren't all pilled up to their eyeballs and ripping their clothes off for her but nevertheless gets us all hot under the fairy wings with sensual numbers such as 'I'm Good, I'm Gone' and her single 'Little Bit'. 

A bit of a gear shift in weather and mood follows with Black Lips taking to the same stage just minutes after, and the heavens open and the skies darken for the entrance of this motley crew of American outlaws. The frontman seems to have lost his trademark moustache, which comes as a bit of a shock, but we soon get over it and kick up the dust whilst jigging along to the garage rock brilliance of 'O! Katrina' and the sing-a-long joviality of 'Bad Kids'. Absolute filth and absolute brilliance.

We leg it over to the Obelisk Arena for the last set of the weekend and await in the rain for the mighty Interpol to blow our minds. They spend most of their set as silhouettes in front of a psychedelic projection of light and colour. OK so they don't smile, they don't dance, nor say much or endorse any kind of bells or trimmings with their stage show, but they don't need to, songs such as 'Slow Hands' and 'No I In Threesome' speak for themselves and the driving rain only adds to the ambiance. No fireworks or explosions of confetti mark the end of Latitude but we don't really need any kind of punctuation mark on what we already know has been one of the best weekends of 2008 so far. 


Jessica Hazel