I haven’t seen such an ocean of people since Glastonbury.” It can’t get any better than this, this is fucking amazing. “We’re home at last after roaming around and around. The confetti cannons work their magic and, flanked by the pink sunset, visible behind me and on the massive screens beside the stage, he thanks the crowd. Somewhere between “Lovers Eyes” and “The Cave” with its death-themed lyrics (which, surreally, I once biked to in a spin class) – “But I will hold on hope/And I won’t let you choke/On the noose around your neck” - Marcus leaps in to crowd-surf, tossing and turning on the waves of fans, to emerge looking rather rumpled and exhausted. The electricity is tangible as everyone sings, “Love the one you hold/And I’ll be your gold.”

“Holland Road” gives us a bit of a breather, followed by “Wilder Mind” and the oh-so-uplifting Babel anthem, “Lover of the Light”. Then “White Blank Page” (and a swelling rage – here we go again), with its yearning, emphatic beat, really gets into the hoe-down zone, with everyone yelling the chorus. The band’s energy levels are off the scale. Winston Marshall – the one with the long hair – famously said, “I fucking hate the banjo.” But banjos and foot-stomping are still firmly in evidence as well as electric guitars in “Little Lion Man”. Mumford & Sons kick off with the compelling drum beat of the great “Snake Eyes” from last year’s Wilder Mind, released after a three-year break and in which the band rocked out, leaving behind their established rustic barn-dance style as well as the Amish waistcoats, suspenders and brown cords (now they’re more into black denim and leather jackets). At one point I celeb-spot Carey Mulligan, Marcus Mumford’s wife - short brunette bob, brown and white midi dress, faintly Edwardian.

The Great Oak stage is a beautiful thing, wedged in between two enormous Arthur Rackham-ish trees, and the vibe is laid back, from where I’m standing, with people posing for selfies, jigging, eating fries and swigging wine (£22 for a large glass, long queues even so). Possibly not everyone in the 60,000-strong, predominantly white, mid-20s crowd is equally preoccupied (but why not? Shouldn’t we be organising a petition?).

Mumford and sons brave lyrics