If Friday at Reading Festival was about finding your feet, Saturday was about losing them. The sun had its claws in early—factor 50 was gone before noon, hats and sunglasses swapped around like currency. The site buzzed with that second-day mix of exhaustion and momentum: sore voices shouting louder than they should, hangovers beaten back by adrenaline, and the knowledge that today’s bill wasn’t going to let up. Reading in daylight is one thing. Reading on a Saturday is something else entirely.