Hmmm. It would probably be unfair to launch right in with the moans, so first some pluses.
The fucking brilliant idea.
On the other hand, there were:
The queues - for the toilets, for the bar, and for the piss-weak variety of food.
The noisy, ligging, fuckwad scenesters doing what they do best and talking through the quieter acts (East London, duh).
The universally poor sound - Battles' handicapped rendition of Atlas will be my prevailing memory of the festival, I fear.
On the face of it, these are familiar festival gripes, especially for new ones. And there was plenty to enjoy. But I reckon this was of the broken egg/omlette variety. Better luck next time - but here's to the next time all the same.