Hmmm. It would probably be unfair to launch right in with the moans, so first some pluses.

Foals.
Vetiver.
Four Tet.
My burger.
The weather.
The atmosphere.
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.