For a moment there, and despite the grey skies for as far as the eye can see, it felt warm.
But wait, is that a spit of rain? Of course it is, followed thereafter, by another downpour. Donington Park has been operating under these conditions all weekend, and this not-very-glorious Sunday lunchtime, things seem all the more damp and sedate.
Right now, with sets by Motley Crue and Kiss hours away, the road ahead (or at least the field surrounding us) feels like a tough 'un.
So come on Backyard Babies, let's see you ignite our passion and turn things around...
And it appears they've picked up our telepathic call, because the Swedes do just that, shaking the Zippo Encore stage with passionate, sleazy rock n roll, every track a winner.
Dysfunctional Professional mightn't be a new number now, but when played with the bite and snarl it always had, it still sounds bang on. It's been an age since we last caught the boys at play, and we weren't sure they'd still cut it.
A slap of our wrists for having any doubt.
They leave us with news of an imminent album release and a return to these shores. Good times.
We've been waiting for Eagles of Death Metal and know that Boots Electric (okay, Jesse if you prefer) ain't about to let us down.
Stage left, Dave Catching is wielding the axe, and not since Status Quo has denim been worked this well.
Together they are a tasty combo of sexy sounds and kicking numbers - I Only Want You and Cherry Cola are failsafe winners, guaranteed festival greats.
The Eagle digs its talons in and makes us all its prey.
“My first show was Kiss, Destroyer,” Boots tells us, “It scared the sh*t outta me, but here I am as a result! Thank you Kiss!”
And we'll second that.
[gallery link="file" columns="6" ids="11640,11639,11636,11638,11637,11635,11653,11652,11644,11651,11650,11641,11642,11649,11648,11647,11646,11645,11643,11655,11654"]Girls don't rock that well, that often (it's sad but true), but when they do (Babes in Toyland, anyone?) they can kick the scrawny backsides of any two-bit rocker you want to put before them.
And L7 are the best. Initially though, their much anticipated return to the UK festival stage does feel a little lacklustre.
Not through lack of effort on their part, mind.
They still play like they mean it, still look like they might kick off at a second's notice, and still have that package of sound that elevated them in the first place.
'Download this!” declares guitarist Suzi Gardner with a not-so-ladylike grab of her lady bits.
Hey, these ladies don't care if you don't care for them.
Donita Sparks bemoans the quiet audience, “this is a rock n roll show,” she announces, seemingly puzzled.
But the other side of the barrier, people are getting that sinking feeling, in a literal sense.
The ground is naffed up, and that dampness we mentioned has been working to dull reactions.
Still, with Andre, Shove, Sh*tlist and Pretend We're Dead crammed into a taut and tidy package, we're all basking in L7 sun by the end, which today comes with Fast & Frightening. It's really something seeing these girls again after so long, and to come away knowing that they are still packing all the goods.
When the male chauvinist's worst nightmare are done, it's over to the Main Stage to catch a band that soon will be.
This is Motley Crue's last UK festival appearance following news that they are calling time on the band after 35 years.
There's no time for sniffling though, only partying, with a crowd pleasing set spilling all the favourites, which together with outrageous tales of debauchery, have long since secured their places as rock n roll legends.
Wild Side, Primal Scream, Same 'Ole Situation, Looks That Kill, Too Fast for Love...hit after another.
Smokin' in the Boy's Room, Dr FeelGood, Shout at the Devil...they keep on giving.
Crue tip their cap to the punk rock aces that they grew up with too – covering the Pistols' Anarchy in the UK, although perhaps a title change to Glam Rock in LA might have worked?
It's a memorable experience, and no-one cares that Vince Neil at times veers into new vocal territory.
The occasional yowl is bang on trend, or so it would seem.
This being the Crue, it was no surprise that a couple of toned, skimpy ladies joined the band for the ride, nor was it a shock that pyros figured in the show.
Well, it was a shock the first time. But those things catch you off guard, don't you find?
Together with tonight's headliners, the music of Vince, Tommy, Mick and Nikki has never been too far from the stereo, and rather fittingly they arrived on stage to the intro of So Long, Farewell, from the not very rock n roll The Sound of Music.
And so it is – with just one more headline tour to come on these shores – that we must say adieu, adieu to Vince, Tommy, Mick and Nikki.
Thanks for being our constant soundtrack.
Kiss isn't a band, it's a way of life, and the business brains at work behind this rock n roll beast will, as Gene Simmons says himself, 'Get you coming and going,' thanks to a fine line in condoms and coffins.
Ever the performance kings, we are treated to stage platforms, an explosion in light and sound, zip-wire action, guitar pyros and plenty of audience banter with Paul Stanley.
Detroit Rock City begins the set of relentless rock n roll, which, save for the shocking absence of Crazy Crazy Nights, is the perfect lesson in Kisstory and such a welcome return.
“Tonight, everything you hear is live,” Stanley says, making a stand against today's saturated, fake, scrubbed, sanitised sounds.
“There are no tapes, no computer – it's real rock n roll. If you can't make it with your band, you should stay home.”
I Love It Loud, War Machine, Do You Love Me, Dr Love, Cold Gin and Love Gun all take turns at captivating the 80,000 rockers who are paying homage stage front.
We do still want to Rock and Roll All Nite (as per tonight's encore, together with Shout It Out Loud and I Was Made For Lovin' You) and so long as Simmons and Stanley are dishing out the goods, we'll make sure to party every day as well.
Of course we wanted the best, and you guessed it, we got it; a Kisstacular show from the hottest band in the world.
Pics: Al Hunter
