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Trent dances up to groups of women and in that mongrel Mediterranean muzza accent which signifies too many nights stumbling out of Revs and into k-holes says "Where's the rave ladies?" Trent is wearing black shorts and white runners streaked with the Meredith dust and a headband around his short black hair which is so thick with gel it looks plastic and on the headband it says "Future Music" in bold Helvetica. He is topless. Trent isn't lost, though. "My friend told me there was a sick rave down the country, so I came here," he says, watching Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks from his couch at the Ampitheatre. "Good tunes, good vibe. No fights yet. That's what I like to see. I come here not to fight, just to have a good time with my friends." Trent has been coming here for three years. Originally he thought it was the Moto GP. Now, he takes it seriously. "The last month, I've been shredding down hard for this, dropping body fat. You have to cut down. You don't want to look too big for these girls." Trent has been chewing his mouth for a long time.

Bella came here with her best friend and boyfriend and when they saw the sun rise over the farmlands on the drive up all three of them spontaneously burst into 'The Circle of Life'. Bella's favourite moment was during Courtney Barnett. "All I wanted to hear was 'Pickles From The Jar' and I was so sure she was gonna play that last. Then it started and my friend looked at me because she was excited it was that song everyone knows, what's it called? 'History Eraser'. And I go, 'It's not what I wanted!' But then immediately after that I was like, 'Oh but I love this song!' And I danced my little booty off." Bella loves Courtney Barnett because she seems "so much one of us. Like watching one of your best friends killing it." Earlier, Bella saw Courtney Barnett and Jen Cloher walking down the hill holding hands and it melted her heart. 

On the stage at the Supernatural Ampitheatre, artists have reported hearing a mysterious, loud droning noise from the crowd. Maybe it's delirium. Maybe it's the sound of so much uncertain murmuring through half-remembered lyrics which coalesces into one great blob of noise. Maybe this is what Courtney Barnett hears when, during 'Pedestrian At Best', she gives up singing lyrics to drone "NEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" at the audience, left to wonder if she was drunk or just taking the piss.

Tristram wears a top hat and speed dealers above his singlet, giving him the look of a bogan Willy Wonka, or some Bondi steampunk. Tristram is a musical fella. He never met a song with lyrics which he couldn't replace with the word 'nang'. Tristram loves nangs so much his campsite is rimmed with inflated balloons of all shapes and colours and sizes. These were obvious totems as much as beacons to wandering nanganators. Tristram found an unlikely hit with the riff of The White Stripes' 'Seven Nation Army'. "First I might roll a joi-oint / Then I might do some M-D-M-A / Thennnnn I might do a-nuh-ther nang / Nang nang-nang nang-nang-nang-nang nang-nang." When someone would suck down a nang, Tristram would shout "NAAAAAAAANG!" like a German might shout "Prost!" Before the end of the weekend, Tristram had convinced the community within earshot that the root of all humour is nangs.

The bands were an afterthought for Phil, who was up late on Saturday night playing his own games. A neighbour warned Phil he'd call the cops if Phil pissed on the wheel of a nearby car, so at 4am, Phil and his mate returned to piss all over the guy's tent. "He woke up in the morning like, 'Whoa, who pissed on my tent?'" They got away with it. Maybe it was karmic retribution, then, that his mushrooms laid him out. "I only took a couple but it wound up being way too much. For three hours I was like-" Josh does the impression of a man zonked out, slugged in the guts by a particular poison.

Dave has been coming to Golden Plains and Meredith for years and he looks like he's figured out how best to enjoy it. Dave speaks quietly, no pretense, a little guarded, but seems like a regular bloke. He takes in the festival from a fold-out chair at the top of the Sup, with a broad straw hat and a green gingham shirt to keep the sun off him. He has a clear view of the stage, and the shrill, hypnotic sound of Kate Bush singing 'Wuthering Heights' is crystal clear. Dave does not seem like a punk, but he says "seeing the Meanies for the first time in 20 years was pretty cool." He was there during their heyday. "They were good then, they're still good now." Trying to get up this morning was hard work, he says, "but I've only got myself to blame for that." 

Victoria works in the ice truck, hauling hefty plastic sacks of ice from the back of the truck over to a big bearded fella who hands it on to any campers who've paid their five bucks to the folks in the marquee next to the truck. Victoria is from Northcote and she comes with a big crew of about 20 or 30 people every year. She got here at 4am and it paid off with a good camping spot. But the best of her festival hasn't happened yet. "This evening we'll launch a double bed sized pink flamingo into the crowd with someone surfing on it," she says. Later, the Village People's Ray Simpson could be seen pointing into the crowd, impressed by the inflatable monument.

Marissa felt sick on Friday and she didn't think she was going to make it, but she didn't want to miss out. "Just a stomach bug," she thought. She couldn't make it to Theo Parrish, but she did see the Village People. Total Giovanni were the real draw, though. "Gold dancers," she says. "Sweet belly rolls, roman pillars, costumes." Everyone got their boots up. On Monday she found out she'd been getting by on infected kidneys. But at least she didn't miss out.

Sam radiates warmth and comfort from the folds of his poncho. Dabs of glitter on his face catch the light from the spectrum of globes strung between the trees outside the Pink Flamingo. "That moment when you see the wonderful Ampitheatre for the very first time... there's no music yet... the grass super green and lush and the trees are there, waiting for your arrival." That seemed so long ago. Sam watched Milwaukee Banks on Sunday morning. "I couldn't wipe the smile from my face the whole time they were doing their thing up there," he says. "They sounded incredible." Later, Sam walked past a campsite blasting Milwaukee Banks from a car stereo and that irrepressible smile returned. "You gotta love Aunty for giving that special stage to young acts like MB."

Tyrone has spent more than a full month of his life at Meredith and Golden Plains now, and mostly with the same group of Top Campers. This year he's got a new innovation: a tube strapped to his shoulder which should hold a yoga mat, but instead keeps a tight column of beers chilled and ready. He's like a peacock bursting with colour from a t-shirt which reads, "LITHUANIA" on the front and "Bronze Medal Winners Barcelona 1992" on the back, a memento of when the Grateful Dead sent the Lithuanian basketball team to the Olympics. When he tumbles out of the crowd, he's panting and his voice is broken. Conor Oberst has just finished. "He played 'Poison Oak' and I-" he says, then he mimics crying. Later, Tyrone and everyone he knows take off their clothes during 'Macho Man'. "People around us were not happy at all."

Mick would always appear to Rowan at the perfect moments. The first time, Rowan was carrying one of those bags of ice back to camp. "I'll give ya twenty bucks to save me the walk," Mick said, facing a trek all the way back to the pines. The second time, Rowan was on the way to the stage for the start of the second night, and out of the thoroughfare mingle came a poncho zooming like an aeroplane, a good omen of what was about to happen. The final moment was at 4:55am when Mick appeared from the darkness on the Bush Camp side of the stage. "Come on, Theo!" Mick shouted. The DJ was playing up a fake encore. Then the track dropped and Mick bounced off, into the thrum, with Rowan helpless but happy to get dragged along behind. One last dance to see them off.

Jake Cleland (@sawngswjakec)