THINK Winchester and think pumping club sounds, nine massive outdoor music arenas and 32,000-plus festival fanatics.

At least that was the scene this weekend as the dance event of the year, Homelands, touched down.

A successor to last year's pioneering Creamfields festival, it was a chance for clubbers to get out of the darkness and into the fresh air of the Matterley Bowl natural arena near Cheesefoot Head.

Not everyone was having a good time, though - it might have been sponsored by one of Britain's biggest mobile phone companies, but making a call was a nightmare.

"I had one guy trying to file his story over the phone to Australia and he was going crazy trying to get a signal," said one of the countlesss PR reps.

It made something of a mockery of Ericsson's slogan "Make yourself heard", although a spokeswoman insisted it wasn't their fault: "It's the network, not Ericsson," she wailed.

To the thousands of dance music fans streaming through the gates, though, the problem was irrelevant.

They had paid their £44 for a 17-hour hedonistic extravaganza from Saturday lunchtime through to past 6am yesterday - and that was exactly what they got.

For some, however, the music was not quite enough to give them the rush they were looking for. "I'm more nervous the second time around, because

I can't help thinking that as I stand there on the edge my brain is telling me 'Don't do it!'," said 20-year-old Bournemouth student Andrew Murray.

Drugs No, the Natural High Bungee Jump, a chance to sling himself, attached to an elastic rope, out of a cage 200 feet up.

"But you've just got to do it - the buzz is amazing. It's the nearest thing to a death experience without actually dying," Andrew added, before he jumped.

As at every respectable festival - aside from the nine music marquee arenas - there were countless other fripperies on offer at Homelands.

Punters could enjoy anything from getting a henna tattoo, buying a £4 blanket or enjoying a perfectly legal herbal pick-me-up.

In the chill out tent, too, there was a chance to see the world premiere of the clubber's clubbing movie for an ecstasy generation, Human Traffic, which stormed Cannes a couple of weks ago.

In a virtual aggro-free environment, fans - anywhere between two and 52 - had the ultimate chance simply to forget about life for a while. But for some it was not the happy experience they were looking for.

The Samaritans were rushed off their feet, as people who hoped they would leave their problems at the gate came to realise it wasn't that easy.

Graham Bawden, team leader of the charity's special festivals branch, said: "People have been coming to us with just about every problem you can think of, but the main one has been relationship worries.

"What tends to happen is that when people have got problems like that, if they come to the festival with their partner the difficulties can come to a head. Or, if they come on their own, they see thousands of people having a great time, and in realising that they can't forget their problems the loneliness kicks in."

That the charity was there is in part a tribute to attention to detail paid by organisers The Mean Fiddler.

As the queues inched through the gates, every ticket-holder was searched before getting in. Although drug dealers did slip through - and the air was sometimes thick with the tell-tale smells - it was kept to a minimum.

By 3pm yesterday, police said they had made 32 arrests during the event, mostly for drugs-related offences, and there had been 12 complaints of noise.

A Hampshire Police spokesmen said: "It seems to have run relatively smoothly, considering the potential for trouble."

A similar story could be found in the first aid tent, run by Festival Medical Services (FMS).

Nick Woolf, of the charity, said: "We have treated a few medical problems - which have not been caused by the festival - but otherwise it has been the usual minor cuts, grazes and bruises."

He added that Mean Fiddler had been careful to make sure the FMS was there to minimise the need to take fans to hospital and reduce the impact on local residents who might need treatment over the weekend.

As the sun went down on Saturday - there was virtually not a drop of rain throughout - the lasers, lights and projections came into their own and Homelands raved on.

One step over the top of the natural bowl at Cheesefoot Head, however, and the pumping sounds almost became a distant memory.

See today's Daily Echo for a full picture spread of the dance event of the year.

Converted for the new archive on 25 January 2001. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.