It’s easy to forget while considering more pressing festival matters – Who’s playing? What’s the weather going to be like? Isn't Martin leaving it until the last minute to get his tickets? Does he actually want to come? Will I get cystitis? Can I get away with wearing shorts with these legs? Shall I take some drugs? – that you are, at the end of the day, going to a field. After all the hopes and memories and sausages and doobies are put to one side, every festival is merely a stretch of grass for which someone, somewhere, had a bizarre vision.

Of course, when you consider a weekend’s camping in any other holiday situation, you tend to do research on your location. Perhaps you consult one of the camping guides; or ponder an Ordnance Survey map, to see what the locale is like. After all, as anyone who has carved the uniquely clingy mud of Glastonbury off their boots with a bread knife will confirm, every part of Britain has its own charms. We are an island of wholly singular valleys, mountains and fields. Travel 40 miles in any direction, and the flora, fauna and general topographic vibe are apt to change entirely.

Glastonbury (Jun 22-24), of course, gives the most obvious example of a festival being immovably intertwined with its distinctive location. Though any other festival could – and, indeed, often has – upped sticks and moved to another site, Glastonbury’s infamously beneficial ley lines and view of Glastonbury Tor, and its prime spot in the Vale of Avalon, are inimical to the whole experience. This is an area that was once – and, many would say, has often been subsequently – totally under water, with only the odd, mystical misty island floating into view. The Pyramid Stage relocated to another, less vibing field, would look as out of place as Gandalf in the middle of West Swindon Shopping Mall.

Perhaps the exact opposite of Glastonbury’s pastoral idyll – Saruman to its Gandalf – comes in the location of the Carling Festival (Aug 24-26) at Reading. If it were a person, I don’t think it would be remotely offended at being described as the most revoltingly located hoedown in mainland Britain. This is partly because Reading has no pretensions to being anything other than three days of honest-to-goodness rock ass-kicking less than an hour’s train journey from the offices of every major British record label; and partly because, if Reading were a person, it would already be hog-whimperingly drunk, and wouldn’t hear a thing you were saying. You could call it the gayest festival in Britain, for all it cared. Though it’s theoretically on the banks of the nascent Thames, situated on some of the most fertile land in Britain, and near a colony of wild, breeding minks, you are essentially attending a fest ival in a car park just off the M4.

In Scotland, the dance and electronica bash Rock Ness (June 9, 10) is a festival far more in tune with its surroundings: the banks of Loch Ness. It is almost certainly the only festival in Britain with both a prehistoric monster and a school of dolphins (up at the Firth of Forth – just stand on the banks of the Firth by the bridge as the tide turns) within striking distance. The good news is that the Highlands have excellent drainage, and what mud there may be is light and granite-based, and can be knocked casually off the wellington while smoking a fag. The bad news is that the midges start hatching in June. If you’ve never been around Highland midges before, imagine a tiger less than a millimetre long that really hates your face.

Back down south, the Malverns play host to the Big Chill (Aug 3-5): the festival of choice for well-to-do thirtysomething ex-ravers. As a festival locale, the Malverns offer the heritage of Elgar, a globally famous spring water and the only Waitrose deli counter within striking distance of a festival. However, the festival’s layout – strung along the bottom of the valley, in a single, long, quite dull line – makes each day feel oddly like a very long walk to the shops, during which you watch Paolo Nutini and eat a pie. But you can hear skylarks before breakfast – surely a bonus?

However, of all the festivals in all the fields in Britain, probably the best field of all has been bagged by the Green Man Festival (Aug 17-19), at the Glanusk Estate, Brecon. Aside from the fact that the main arena is a natural grassy theatre, and you can wade down a small waterfall while watching the headlining act, the site’s alignment of hill, valley, lake and wood makes for superlative fengshui. Obviously, I don’t really know what fengshui is, but the bottom line is: at night, if you’re facing towards the main stage, there’s a road that goes behind it, on which the cars look as if they’re driving straight up into the sky.

Now that, my friends, is a field worth having a festival in.

Nature notes

End of the Road: Larmer Tree Gardens

The sweeping lawn, clipped laurel rides and specimen trees were created by General Pitt Rivers in the 19th century. Towering eucryphias frame the ponds, and there’s a peaceful wood.

Connect Festival: Inveraray Castle

You could spend your free time gazing over the waters of Loch Fyne watching for mackerel. If autumn arrives early the yellow birches in the woods will be starting to turn.

Green Man Festival: Glanusk Park

Tree lovers will have a field day spotting the 120 or so different kinds of oak on this private parkland spread over 400 acres in the Usk valley. Tiered lawns make a natural arena for the main stage.

Latitude: Henham Park This parkland was shaped by Humphry Repton in 1791. The lake, which you can travel across by gondola, was added only in the 1990s. The iconic pastel-coloured sheep (the dye is nontoxic) are easy to spot: more fleeting are the deer.

Field Day: Victoria Park The first public park in London is home to some impressively large trees, including weeping beech, oaks, horse chestnuts and cherries spread across its 218 acres. It’s split into two sections. Each has its own lake and a traditional flower garden.

Annie Gatti, Gardening Editor

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