Have you ever been cornered in a pub by some auld lad, possibly me, and had the ear worn off you with talk of festivals past, and how it was all better "back in the day"? The fool in question would come over all misty eyed as he recherched du temps perdu, banging on about smaller crowds, decent food and drink, and, Lord help us, "The Vibe", forgetting the mud and the blood and the bad times. Well now you can give that lad the fingers with a smile, for All Together Now is the festival done right.

Walking down the hill towards the pond and the old country house, long-time gaff of the 9th Marquis of Waterford, you already know you're in the right place. Various artisan food stalls, and more importantly, decent looking ale-houses greet the eye. The spoken word stage resembles the kind of club Sherlock Holmes might have sipped a brandy in, while the Hot Press Speak Easy towers above all others, a bastion of refinement and good taste. Fancy a decent cocktail? There's plenty to choose from. It's a long way from the plastic beaker of warm beer that your man mentioned above might remember. And all that's before we've heard a note of music.

Booka Brass took to the main stage in an atmosphere which can only be described as bucolic. Punters are spaced out nicely on picnic blankets, enjoying the good food and the great weather -it's still 23º at 7:15. The band's New Orleans shtick is a perfect fit, a chilled syncopated opening track gives way to some 70s cop music love theme grooving. They really stretch out on 'Portobello', their four piece brass section doing sophisticated without descending into Jazz FM cliché. I would have happily hung around longer.

The Wagnerian Goth-Space Rock of KÁRYYN is in the wrong place at the wrong time over at the Road To Nowhere stage. Accompanied by a bloke on violin and MacBook, it's Björk gone ever further off the deep end but, in fairness, they've had a problem with missing gear so they're working off samples, and her octave-jumping voice is genuinely impressive.

There's a much bigger gang over at Ghostpoet who gives a good account of himself with his industrial hip-hop mash-up. The bass player, who looks like he should be serving lunch to the Addams Family, delivers a massive, stomach-bothering sound that Peter Hook would be proud of. The drummer is certainly earning his few bob too, as the band head in to the dark territory at the far end of Massive Attack and the guitar player even almost quotes The Edge of 'Bullet The Blue Sky' at one point. I make my way out, reluctantly, only to crash a wedding in the inflatable chapel, presided over by a handsome looking Reverend in a leopardskin outfit. Nice action.

Fehdah kept us waiting a bit at the Belonging Bandstand but it was worth hanging about for. Led by Emma Garnett, and ably assisted by sister Loah (Sallay to the passport office), the combination of their mixed background of Sierra Leone and, uh, Crumlin means they slip from the Sherbro and Krio languages to English as their music moves between nu-soul - you can hear a bit of Sade here and there - and the African rhythms of their father's homeland. It's infectious stuff that quickly has the crowd, including a good gaggle of children at this properly kid-friendly do, up and moving. Full marks too for the pink and blue fur coat and fetching space pants.

Talking of nice pants, The New York Brass Band sport a nice line in tartan punk trousers as they rattle through such fare as Marley's 'One Love', The Eurythmics' 'Sweet Dreams', and The Specials' 'Ghost Town', which appears to have some of the theme from The Muppets thrown in. I'm only a bit disappointed when they start talking in thick middle England accents. Who knew Rick Astley's 'Never Gonna Give You Up' would work as a jump blues?

Up to the Main Arena for Chaka Khan. There's a proper turn out, a lot of people excited to see her. Things start off well with 'This Is My Night', the band sounding tight, but the longer things go on, as she works through her seventies catalogue, the more restless the hit-starved crowd become. "Do you remember Rufus? I don't" she jokes, but the truth is a lot of people here really don't. There's nothing wrong with songs like 'Pack My Bags' but this crowd wants to dance. When Chaka then goes off and leaves the band to descend into a funk/soul jam for a good ten minutes, that felt a lot longer, people start to drift away. Good thing then that she returns with Prince's 'I Feel For You' - played a lot closer to the purple original than her none-more-eighties recording. This is what we wanted, and the shape throwing continues for triumphant runs through 'I'm Every Woman' and the brilliant 'Ain't Nobody'

Time for me to catch a lift, but not before cutting a rug with the Sing Along Social crowd to a bit of Gwen Stefani and Fleetwood Mac. A splendid time was had by all.