A wild weekend of music and merry capers....

Hats off to the Celtic Blue Rock.

The hills were alive with the sound of music, last weekend, but there wasn't a singing nun in sight, as instead, thousands of revellers descended on Llanfyrnach for this year's Celtic Blue Rock Festival.

A minimal police presence seemed to be all that was needed to monitor the feast of friends and families who milled between the festival's varied attractions.

Establishing itself firmly as a family event, the organisers provided a fabulous programme of activities and entertainment, from hard-edge heavy metal to crafts workshops.

For me, however, the festival was all about the music. The local music scene is more vibrant than ever, and last weekend was its rip-roaring showcase.

The Cromlech stage was most impressive this year, decked out with a superb sound system and great engineers who brought the best out of the bands who played on it.

Freshold were no exception. Their bass player reels off a list of influences which makes me think that perhaps they need a bit of focus, but then they played and blew me away.

Their set was a juggernaut left on a hill with the handbrake taken off - 20 tonnes of unstoppable, rolling hardware - punctuated by convincing south Walian rapping, and soaring, soulful female vocals.

Later on, after much partying and not being able to walk three steps without seeing a long-lost friend, I managed to catch the horny Johnny Action Finger's breakneck, brass-driven maelstrom of a set, which was as fun as ever.

Were the Powersteppers and Molara something to write home to mum about? This band are so exciting I'd write to the bank manager about them (he'd love to hear from me anyway).

Their performance was inspirational, rock-steady dance music with a fire-breathing soul.

The last band I caught, before I ventured off into a wilderness of beer and spirits, was Supergene.

Military-precise and highly professional, Supergene churned out anthem after anthem like a Coldplay with attitude.

This is a band in their stride, and they seem to be moving ten miles with each step.

As the night wore on and alcohol became the most common liquid in my veins, my memories are less vivid and more abstract.

What followed was a tornado of hat-stealing, bad behaviour, celebrations of Pagan proportions and cringeworthy chat-up lines - I am still getting smirk-worthy flashbacks.

I did receive some vital words of wisdom from one of the organisers who explained that it is apparently wrong to take someone's hat from their head and I was liable to get myself into trouble. Thanks pal, I'll keep it in mind.

Thanks to everyone who came to see ok.

I'm not going to review us myself, as many people suggested I would.

For those of you who missed us - did we rock? We were Stonehenge, mate.

This leaves one thing left to mention, the thing I decided not to mention until the end, just to underline what little effect it had on the festival.

Mud and rain - yes, there was some.