Guilfest has never been a "destination" event, which means that at least it's safe from colonisation by the people who have turned Glastonbury into an outpost of London cocktail society. The weekend was blissfully celebrity-free, unless you counted the bands themselves, though even that was a tough call: into what category do Status Quo and Lulu fall these days? A moot point, though, because the music was just one diversion in what was basically a weekend in the park.

This must be the only festival where you're greeted by a van offering estimates on roof repairs, and if that doesn't sum up the Guilfest vibe, consider this: the shady "herbal high" stalls were outnumbered by cappuccino parlours.

With much of the audience languishing on beach chairs under blue skies, it took a certain kind of act to generate anything more than a flutter of applause. The new and the unfamiliar weren't those acts.

On Saturday, the teenaged Subways and the Libertines-lite Others, both critical faves, blitzed through ragged sets. Half an hour of indifference later, The Others' Dominic Masters knew he was beaten. "Looking forward to Paul Weller?" he sighed.

Echo and the Bunnymen, by contrast, were greeted joyously. They repaid the welcome with an impressive show that, despite its preponderance of 1980s hits like Killing Moon, was fresh and insolent. Ian McCulloch illustrated the benefits of dedicated smoking, with a cigarette roadie replenishing the fags.

On Sunday, Lulu looked about 25, with only her Vegasy sequins saying differently. Still the untiring rocky rasper, she set the crowd up for Daniel Bedingfield, the only under-30 of the day. Not a natural outdoor turn, you'd have thought, but he rose to the occasion with a brutalised rock version of the disco frother Gotta Get Thru This. Finally, headliners Status Quo were nothing less than splendid. Splendidly stupid, splendidly fun and splendidly right for this sweetest of festivals.