Heat at last. Hyde Park is strewn with people lazy and exhausted from a day in the sun. By seven in the evening they wearily scatter to their homes. SPFs stashed in beach bags, left only with the battle of having to go home. Warm, contented, happy people.  Each headed to the underground before the night turns cold.

Finally May has come. A string of festivals lie ahead. A freedom afforded to those with no reliable employment; as long as they have a ticket. Regardless of the shoddy government, cobbled together after a shoddy election, thoughts of a massive tent filled with music and drunks seems possible after all.

The end of all this crap emerges over the horizon, to be found in the faces of bewildered and excited people. A legion of bands ready to take the stage. This years music, just like last years, is expected to be pretty damn good. The content of a million iPods appearing on stage, in the flesh. Not secreted in headphones but broadcast for a happy few to hear.

It turns out a man who’s mastered his instrument can fair a whole lot better than a city boy selling everything he’s given. A musician honing their own brand of hypnotism, their own carefully cultivated bliss, showing what pride in your work is all about. The giants of the industry have their own apoplectic board, just like any bank. But the artisans, the Seasick Steve's, any electro hobo, the indie, the folk, the rock, they’re just the same as they ever were. They may even be a little better this year.

Over the next couple of months the most elusive acts of our generation gather in a rigorously organised schedule. Ready to awaken the young out of the stupor, the numb tedium of the fuckless and the feckless in an angry and divided country. Ready to show them what great moments feel like. Good times for the thousands who gather to celebrate the fact they can still afford beer, by hook or by crook, to lose themselves in the dizzy hedonism of it all. The spark of thousands of people ready to fight their way to a paycheck, fuck their way to a smile and get on with their lives. Ready to argue a little more. Fueled by the pleasure to be had with wine and music in a massive sun drenched field.

No matter what part of the world is flooding or burning; there’s nothing you can do about the sun.