The second day of the festival and the weather had improved; the sun was out and it was already pretty warm. Arriving in Hamilton once again, I found it overrun with groups of festival-goers in search of breakfast - the local McDonald's must have had its best Sunday morning takings ever.

Being a little early, I had to join a large queue to get into the site, but this was good-natured and relatively orderly. Once inside, I made for the Main Stage and sat down on the grass (I had only just realised that I spent the whole of yesterday on my feet - my back felt as though a couple of vertebrae had been surgically removed during the night).

Even at this early stage of the day, the festival site began to fill up, and the grassy field now had its fair share of dusty bald spots, bringing back thoughts of last year's heatwave dust-storm hell. However, at the moment, the crowd was sufficiently small and the dust remained settled, so I just sat back and waited for the first band of the day to appear.

"Come Home" was a highlight, as was "36 Degrees", and Placebo had a small but enthusiastic section of the crowd - including myself - behind them. Another band I would like to see play a full set in a smaller, more intimate venue, this was still a great start to the day.

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Vocal duties were shared between two of the bands' members, one obviously worshipping the craven image of Thurston Moore, the other paying homage more to Teenage Fanclub. "Kewpies Like Watermelon" and the wonderful "Plastic Ashtray" were the only songs I recognised - both madcap slices of indie mayhem - but the rest of the set was also impressive, and went down well. One of the highlights was when a Bez-like friend of the band came on and danced around them, wearing shades and playing maracas whilst smoking a fag and drinking a can of lager. Coordination or what?

Somewhat overshadowed by some other bands to come out of Glasgow recently (hello Bis), Urusei are amongst the best of the new crop of groups I've seen and deserve great things.

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The band, a five-piece live, resembled the Pogues when they played their more folk-tinged numbers (the start of the glorious pop of "Twinkle", or the bitter-sweet and cynical "When We Were Young", for instance); and The Clash when they did some other, stronger material. Playing together well, the band also had a good line in between-song banter, baiting the TV cameras that were filming them and generally having a good time. This translated to the audience, who also enjoyed the set, as did I.

The start to Sunday's T in the Park experience had therefore been good: too good to last, however...

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Also, they didn't always live up to their image of bad punk girls, shying away from plastic bottles thrown on stage and responding very lamely to the cries of "get them out". A proper punk band would've leapt into the audience, ripped out the offenders' tongues with their bare hands, not sidestepped plastic water bottles in horror and mumbled something feeble into the microphone in response.

Where's Courtney Love when you need her?

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The crowd towards the front of the stage appeared to be enjoying themselves, but the biggest cheer that Shakespear's Sister received was when they launched into a version of Bananarama's "Venus". Which must tell us something...

Mildly diverting.

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Live, they made me react exactly the same as I had done to their recorded output. The singles, and a couple of the other songs they played set my feet tapping, but the rest of their set caused my mind to wander and begin wishing for them to finish. I did stick it out to the end, however, as I've certainly heard worse bands - I just can't see what all the fuss is about.

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Eventually, it was time to get back to the music - Mansun's rather pedestrian and plodding set was not the most auspicious of returns, however. Although touchingly dressed in matching red tartan bondage trousers and all with Birdland-like bleached hair, "Take It Easy Chicken" was the only song that really stood out in any way - that more through familiarity than anything else, and I ended up sympathising with the couple that were lying down on the floor, sound asleep, all the way through Mansun's performance.

Sunday's bill had, for me at least, descended into a less enjoyable mixture of back pains, a sunburnt forehead and - worst of all - mediocre music. The festival was in dire need of a pick-me-up. Luckily, that was just around the corner...

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This was pop heaven. Together with bands such as Lightning Seeds, Dodgy and the aforementioned Cardigans, The Wannadies obviously bathe daily in "Eau de Pop". Containing all the hooks, harmonies and melodies you could ever want, their set covered the ace singles "You And Me Song" and "How Does It Feel", both classic, but not overshadowing the rest of the material which was equally bright, brash and bristling.

The band put in an energetic and enjoyable performance, the lead singer winning the audience over with his modesty and affable manner, and the female backing singer and keyboard player giving the band an almost Abbaish feel at times. After 5 minutes, the whole of the NME tent was jumping up and down, joyously lost in the addictive and refreshing sounds that The Wannadies produced.

Give this band an award for servives to pop now.

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Drawing a very large crowd (the dust was beginning to rise) , Cast proceeded to play one killer song after another. "Alright" and "Fine Time" (are all their song titles nicked from other bands'?) being highlights of a tune-packed set. The sun was out, the crowd was in a relaxed mood and John Powers' band was cranking out some great songs: surely this is what festivals are all about. Living up to their image, the only banter between songs consisted of a Scouse "nice one, sorted" from Powers, causing much good-natured amusement from the crowd.

Mellow, tuneful, catchy and lively, Cast are another band well-suited to the festival scene and they did T in the Park proud.

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I left after a couple of songs (I'd just wanted to say I'd seen him), so I don't know if they did a song called "There's A Bomb On The Bus", but judging from what I heard, it's just as well Mr Reeves has another little job on the side...

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James wore a red shirt and white trousers, Nicky in Hawaiian shirt and light trousers too - this was the Manic Street Preachers summer wardrobe, obviously! Having made a conscious decision to distance themselves from the mascara and fake-fur style of the early days (as the lyrics to immense and epic crowd-pleaser "Everything Must Go" testify), the Manics look a little more traditional these days. The music stays the same however; ranging from the all-out punk rock storm of "Faster"; through the power-pop of "Enola/Alone"; to the aching, soaring ballads such as "Motorcycle Emptiness" and new fanfare for the common man "A Design For Life", all played here superbly, with passion and conviction.

The crowd were loving every minute of it, hundreds (or so it seemed at the time) of people launching themselves over the heads of those of us in front as the many-legged and sweaty beast that was the audience surged and swayed from side to side. The Manics provided the perfect soundtrack to this mayhem; Nicky standing impassionately with feet planted wide apart, James screaming into the microphone as he savaged his guitar and Sean hammering away at his drumkit, taking a back seat from the other two but providing a rock-steady backing. As a trio, the Manic Street Preachers are tighter now than ever, and writing some of the best music of their lives.

Closing the set with a red-hot and no-longer-ironic "You Love Us", the Manics provided a searing jolt of passionate rock and pop bombast to Sunday's proceedings. Unbeatable.

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Currently experiencing deserved and overdue success, this band can trace their lineage back to Bowie, through Sex Pistols, via The Smiths to Crowded House, on to Suede and finally to where they are now: perfect purveyors of angry and angsty indie rock. In Crispin Hunt, The Longpigs have a vocalist with the rare ability to make every song seem the most extreme possible (like the gut-wrenching fiery spectacle that is "Jesus Christ") - until the next one. Coupled with that the mellower side exemplified in the ambiguous and wonderful "On And On" ("one for all you lovers out there", Hunt introduced it wryly with).

Playing to a packed tent, Longpigs stood tall and proud, presenting a stunning set of songs interspersed with Hunt's dry and laconic asides. (Mind you, I'm sure he says "this is the best of all the festivals" to all of them...) I predict this band will go from strength to strength, making them one of our most unexpected and precious treasures in the UK's musical hoard.

Finishing with a triumphant and energetic "She Said", Hunt fell to his knees, coaxing shrill and painful chords from his guitar before rising, smashing it to the floor and jumping up and down on it. Somehow, this seemed like the only logical way to finish an outstanding set such as this.

More, please.

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Their star status reinforced by the fact they were the only band I'd seen on the Main Stage to have a backdrop, Black Grape appeared to a huge roar from the crowd, and launched into one of their shambolic, messy, glorious numbers. "Reverend Black Grape" and "In The Name Of The Father" with their pseudo-religious lyrics, thumping beats and singalong choruses went down a storm (particlularly with the two incredibly loud and beered-up blokes behind me who thought they could sing). "Kelly's Heroes" was also vastly enjoyable, the stoned lyrics in particular. Shaun appeared even more addled than usual during this performance, getting the set list order muddled up and complaining about the sound levels (which were admittedly pretty poor), but he was a superb front-man, immediately getting the crowd on his side by saying he now knows Glasgow "better than I know Manchester".

More songs followed that set the crowd bouncing up and down and grooving, then all too soon they were gone - but not before turning the late-evening of Sunday's T in the Park into a party.

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When Cocker tells an audience of so many thousand that he fancies us all, each and every one of us believes him - he had the crowd cheering his every martial-arts style hand movement, his idiot leaps into the air, each and every word he uttered. And the songs were massive. Huge anthems such as "Mis-shapes" and "Disco 2000" had the crowd literally jumping and delirious. The biggest roar of the evening came when Cocker announced his intention to make this - with the audience's help - a "legendary" performance. Here was a master of manipulation at work.

Hit after hit followed, massive songs bursting out into the night as the crowd lapped it up. A perfectly-timed and superb "Common People" closed the set, as several hundred white balloons were released into the night sky (in a slightly too tacky moment). Impressed certainly, but I was left with the slight feeling that Pulp - particluarly Cocker - are now too big - too stadium. I for one would certainly not have been surprised to see everyone holding lighters aloft then clapping along like the crowd in Queen's "Radio Gaga" video...

However, probably no other band could have brought T in the Park to such a momentous and impressive close as Pulp, and as we filed out into the night, trying to think of how we were going to get home, the tune that everyone was whistling was one of Pulp's.

A fantastic festival then; the high-points (take a bow Radiohead, Manics, Foo Fighters, Wannadies and Pulp) certainly outweighing the low (hang your heads in shame Fluffy, Mansun and Space).

See you again next year...