Day 185. Aswem beach, Goa, India. No hash.

The day started badly when me and Wend missed out on the breakfast hash browns. 12 were ordered but we made the schoolboy error of being absent from the table when they arrived. So it was one each for us, two a piece for Dave and Juliette and a monstrous, artery-hardening three for greedy Steve and piggy Sarah.

The fact that I'm writing about unfair hash brown distribution is an indirect, but damning, indictment of what we thought of today's festival. Surely it would be more interesting to provide an in depth review of Goa's first ever Big Chill?

Well, no not really.

We had to put up with the same heavy handed security as yesterday, there were no pies on sale, and an uninspiring line-up left much of the crowd scratching their heads in bewilderment.

Apparently Norman Jay livened things up for a while in the afternoon, but me and Wend didn't fancy 2 hours in the company of the black Terry Wogan, so opted instead for Amba on the smaller second stage, where we constituted 25% of the audience.

Coldcut, who were headlining in the evening, were bad enough to have us running for the festival gates half an hour before full-time. They were dire. Attempting forlornly to blend their trademark mash ups with some local Goan hippy nonsense.

Shoddy in the extreme.