If you are going to get soaked anywhere, the Green Man festival is the place to do it. Although the green fields of Glanusk Park quickly become a mud bath, the beauty of the surroundings is undiminished; fairy lights sparkle in conifers, candyfloss mist smothers Sugar Loaf Mountain and bubbles fill the air.
Green Man is all about discovery - there's a tent where you can learn to knit and, ironically, a class in the art of dowsing - but there's a threat the festival could become of victim of its spirit, with attendance up from 6,000 last year to 10,000 this summer.
In the Green Man Cafe, it's the folk upstarts who shine. Thee, Stranded Horse, aka Yann Encre, is a serious young Frenchman who plays acoustic guitar and kora simultaneously, his dark songs demanding, and getting, hushed respect. Tunng bring some sunshine to the Folkey Dokey stage with a tiki bar, palm trees and beach balls, but their folktronica is too self-indulgent to be startling. Ben Chasny of Six Organs of Admittance is joined by Magik Markers' guitarist Elisa Ambrogio. The duo tear across the stage like warring stags, duelling furiously, but Chasny's seething noise doesn't affect anyone else, unlike that of newcomers Thistletown, whose courtly, medieval loveliness warms the most mud-splattered of souls.
Green Man still has curios such as Yoko Ono-aping drum and howl duo Directing Hand, and regulars such as the charming and increasingly confident Euros Childs, but the festival's success has brought big names and a couple of legends.
Vashti Bunyan's fragile whisper and butterfly-wing songs are too small to suvive the main stage and turn into pretty aural wallpaper, but Robert Plant's fire is far from out. Tearing through new songs and Led Zeppelin classics including Black Dog and Whole Lotta Love, 59-year-old Plant rages against Blair and seduces the crowd, calling them "children". After a blazing set, he bids us goodnight, adding: "I'll see you in the queue for the bus pass."