WE knew Elton John had magic at his fingertips, but little did we know he could orchestrate the weather as well.

The rain had fallen for hours before the music legend was due to take the lakeside stage, forcing picnics to be spread beneath umbrellas and makeshift canopies stretched between cars parked in the lush fields around the castle. So very, very British.

Though the clouds remain leaden, the pouring eases to a drizzle and then stops altogether, just in time for the man to take his bows.

In a black sequined suit, he looks rather awkward as he walks, almost waddles, across the stage: short and dumpy, the face and body ageing, the hair still outrageously young.

The transformation takes place from the moment he sits at the piano. All clumsiness is replaced by a grace born out of a rare talent to make one instrument sound like a whole orchestra.

Your Song. The first of many classics. Elton's beautifully on his way. It's low key at first: The Greatest Discovery, Someone Saved My Life Tonight, Daniel and Harmony. Honky Cat lifts the tempo and is swifly followed by Rocket Man, Tiny Dancer and Philadelphia Freedom.

Gum-chewing George Reynolds, multi-millionaire chairman of Darlington Football Club, is near the front. Two of England's richest men sitting yards from each other - one who made his fortune from chipboard, the other from keyboards.

A T-shirted man, who has spent more time going backwards and forwards to the drinks tent, returns yet again with a cardboard box laden with Pimm's and stretches across to give George one. George gives a thumbs up to the stranger, obviously not a Hartlepool fan, and Elton's singing Sacrifice.

For those close to the stage, an autocue behind the piano gives away the secret of what's coming next: Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word.

Surely after three decades, Elton doesn't need reminding of the words, but they roll up on the small screen just in case.

To the disappointment of some, there's precious little chat, just polite bows and waves between songs. Anyway, it's the music we've come to hear.

All around there are people with their eyes closed, singing well-worn lyrics, mesmerised. Couples are holding hands, cherishing songs that are special to them. One woman can't stop crying.

I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues gets them to their feet, as does a storming rendition of Burning Down The Mission before Blue Eyes slows the pace again.

Images of Elton's friend, John Lennon, flicker across a giant overhead screen as he pours out his tribute song, Empty Garden.

Then there's excitement in the front rows as the autocue tells us Crocodile Rock's coming next.

Elton remembers when rock was young, we remember when we were young, and Raby rocks and rolls.

Elton departs, but the autocue confides that he's coming back. Of course he's coming back. Don't Let The Sun Go Down on Me is fittingly greeted by the first drop of rain in two and a half hours.

It holds off through The Circle of Life, from The Lion King, and a pulsating Benny and the Jets, which has thousands - even George Reynolds - dancing.

Candle in the Wind brings the show to an end. Candles and lighters light up the darkness, which has descended unnoticed and, to the right of the stage, the castle glows too.

Spookily, it is the line "Never knowing who to cling to when the rain set in," that signals the downpour to begin in earnest.

Adoring fans cling to each other under coats, hats and even bin bags.

Elton, the king of the castle, waves and shuffles off - the master orchestrator