After a surprisingly wonderful night’s sleep (seven hours? Uninterrupted? I’ll take that.) thanks to a combination of being a) very drunk the night before and b) ear plugs, Sunday treated us to Cadillac Three, who are much more soothing on the eardrums; letting those far too hungover to ease into the day’s musical festivities.
We’re late leaving the campsite and only briefly get a glimpse of Alestorm bringing pirate metal kicking and screaming – some dude is playing the keytar and it doesn’t sound too horrible. We’re only up early though to see one band: Babymetal. Judging by the crowd of people swarming to the Apollo stage, we aren’t the only ones.
I am finally home from Sonisphere after spending what felt like an age in a car park queue topping up the tan on one of my arms. Things like hot running water and a cup of tea are taken for granted far too much when you’ve spent four days coating your body in dry shampoo, using baby wipes and eating bruised apples, washed down with warm Carlsberg.