Strolling couples, model-railway enthusiasts and amateur botanists - that's what you can, in general, expect to find in Malahide Castle.
Not 13,000 cheering, jeering young animals, intent on having a good time and being led by a bunch of braying monkeys - welcome to Arctic Monkeys' travelling circus.
The sun kept her favours to herself, but the rain had the courtesy to hold her fire. This was a festival that could only take place in Ireland: a crowd rabid with anticipation, in the majestic grounds of a 12th-century castle, at the height of June - and the caterers had missed a trick by not having a hot-whiskey bar.
The band are a latter-day phenomenon and, despite having an average age of around 21, they are widely credited with altering how the music industry works.
It is difficult to imagine that less than six years ago, Alex Turner and Jamie Cook were asking their parents for instruments as Christmas presents. Now, the Sheffield outfit they formed lays claim to the fastest selling debut album in British history.
They've made inroads into the US market, and this week they will scale what must be the pinnacle of every British bands' ambitions - a headline slot at the Glastonbury music festival.
Arctic Monkeys' breakneck rise to fame is largely thanks to their internet popularity. Their early recordings were circulated online by fans, copied and passed by word of electronic mouth, leading to media hype and an devoted fan base.
All this occurred at a time when the band, by their own admission, didn't even know how to upload music on to a website.
But all of this is academic from the vantage point of a park in north Co Dublin. A delegation at the entrance giving out free breakfast bars probably seemed like a great idea in someone's marketing office last week. But out here, in the wilds of Malahide, the nutty treat's only purpose was as an arbitrary missile.
Flinging seemed to be something of a theme for the day. A not at all tired, but certainly emotional crowd were in fine, festive spirits.
As the queues at the back wound around the bars, the heaving mass at the front threw themselves - and anything else to hand - about with abandon.
First to go were the beers. Then there were shoes by the dozen; a few contraband umbrellas found a new purpose as ad-hoc beach balls and one chap lost his trousers.
A few errant missiles even spun their way on to the stage, giving the Monkeys cause for pause: "Those ballet-type shoes are okay, but rigger boots are not cool," warned lead singer Alex Turner.
The Monkeys' songs about life in Britain's less glamourous towns, getting by on a prescription of five days' factory work, go bananas at the weekend and repeat as needed, has struck a chord beyond the UK.
It's not often that you see people staring into each other's eyes at gigs, mouthing lyrics word-perfect as if their life depended on it.
Despite the leaden skies, it came as a full-blooded warm-up before tackling Glastonbury on Friday night.