Last Day - Damp Squib

The last day turned into a rather damp squib, after Peter Snow, that is. The former Master of the Swingometer gave a lively and entertaining account of the campaigns of the Duke of Wellington and his enthusiasm for Wellesley was infectious. Of all the 400 plus events in Hay this that I had been most looking forward to, Nobel Laureate JMG Le Clezio, was cancelled. Apparently not enough tickets were sold for the event. I don't think he's much read in the UK which is a shame.

Overall, I'm fairly confident that the Festival was a success, numbers over the bank-holiday weekend were huge. For me, there was rather too much science and too little literature which might possibly reflect the tastes of readers of the Telegraph, the new title sponsors. Soon it'll be grey men in grey suits with electronic tablets rather than notebooks and pens, and the unique atmosphere of Hay will disappear into the Welsh drizzle.

Rumour has it that a number of key people involved in the organisation of the festival were refused admission to the Telegraph's Party on Saturday night - not the way to make friends and influence people, but presumably this won't happen next year?

Nice piece on the festival in the Observer yesterday by Mariella Frostrup, at least someone from the Guardian Group is still supportive of Hay.

That's all until next year unless I include a couple of posts about Brecon Jazz in August.

Great Readers our Stewards

Meg takes advantage of an all too brief respite in crowd control.



















Peter oblivious to all around him - a study in concentration. Does nobody read the Telegraph?



















My downfall this festival - the Oxfam container from which the Oxfam shop is restocked. Never mind, it's all for a good cause.

Odd Shoes, Odd Thoughts

Mel is the only person I know who can get away with wearing odd shoes - courtesy of Zims.



Peter Atkins had an interesting idea - with a disarming lack of certainty, he was not sure whether or not he was already dead, but if he was, Hay bore a stong resemblance to paradise!

Wendy Cope was most entertaining with a dry wit and disarming simplicity she really makes poetry fun and in a curious sense, ordinary.

As for Andy Stanton and James Campbell, they are both mad and the children love them in the sense that children love adults who play the role of children with credibility. Adults are fascinated because they get away with being children and get paid for it.

Day off Friday, back over the week-end.

From the Ridiculous to the Sublime

Left my camera in the car so no photographs today. Overcast day with a penetrating wind. Two events I managed to listen to: Michael Wright discussing his two books about an Englishman in the Limousin: C'est La Folie and Je t'aime a la Folie. This guy was hilarious and had great stage presence. He writes a column on his life in France for the Daily Telegraph and has built up a devoted following, some of whom were in the marquee today.

Secondly, I listened to Rosie Boycott talking to Lewis Wolpert on his new book: You're Looking Well all about the ageing process and how to cope with it. Again tremendously funny but also serious especially concerning euthanasia and Alzheimer's but hugely entertaining. At 81 years old, Wolpert is very spry and although he claims to be forgetful, his marbles are clearly in place and he has dry and perceptive wit.

Important Visitors to the Festival

The Duchess of Cornwall leaving Pemberton's Bookshop

All visitors to the festival are important but as everywhere else, some are more important than others. I encountered two very important visitors at Hay today. The Duchess of Cornwall was accompanied by all sorts of people: police personnel (lots), security personnel (lots), hangers on (lots) but the primary purpose was very worthwhile - to encourage children to read. Now I'm no lover of royalty, indeed the Head Steward had cause to ask me: "Just how rampant a republican are you?" Can't remember what I said in reply but I must have passed the test as I was allowed to remain on site. Nevertheless, the visit was primarily intended to encourage children to read, and as this is, to my mind, the noblest of causes, and for this she deserves praise.

The other very important visitor and the one I was allowed to meet and shake hands with was Huw Lewis AM, the Welsh Government's new Minister for "things cultural", I can't recall his correct title, but I had the pleasure of taking him into the Oxfam Stage so he could get an idea of how an event at Hay is organised. He was very pleasant and interested and I fervently hope he went away with a good impression of the festival.
















No this isn't prison visiting, nor is it feeding time at the zoo, rather it is parents providing sustenance to their children as they wait in the queue for a book signing at Pemberton's Bookshop. The author? Malorie Blackman, one very popular lady.



















It's those girls again and as you can see, the festival site is bathed in sunshine. They're handing out leaflets encouraging people to visit Gifford's Circus.


We stewards have to be prepared to answer all sorts of questions as the public are told to "Ask a Steward". The most frequently asked question at our corner of the festival site is "Where are the toilets?". What has surprised me is how many Brits use the Americanism "bathroom" instead of "toilets" or "loo".

The second most frequently asked question with us at the Oxfam Stage is "Where is the Oxfam Bookshop?" and it is usually asked by people with little piles of books to donate to the charity and claim their free ticket to event not already sold out that day.

Today's classic question however, bearing in mind that the festival site is about a mile from the centre of Hay, "Where is Richard Booth's Bookshop?". The young lady clearly thought that this iconic establishment was located at the festival.

Two fascinating events I caught today - Keith Jeffrey and Sir John Scarlett talking about the official history of MI6 to 1949, and Frederick Taylor on The Occupation and Denazification of Germany. Just when you think you know almost all there is to know of certain topics, you suddenly realise just how little you actually do know, always there are interesting snippets that come to light which frequently alter your perspective of history. Such is the delight of Hay Festival.

Rainy Hay Full Houses

Cold and wet morning which dampened spirits outside the events but iside, the events are as vibrant as ever.




















Another very young audience for Kipper and Friends but the buggy park was not quite as full as for Julia Donaldson and the Gruffalo. Who's Kipper you ask? This is Kipper greeting his fans after the event.





















Interesting problem today for our Venue Chiefs, we have a full house for the American satirist, David Sedaris and after we were half an hour into the show, a staffer shows up without a ticket and asks to be admitted. "Sorry, all the seats are taken" she was told. "OK I'll stand at the back" was the response. Clearly, not everyone who works for the festival understands the rules of the game.

That reminds me, yesterday a man was so desperate to see the Index on Censorship Debate on the case of Bradley Manning that he offered me a fiver to let him in to this full house. I simply said sorry and walked away.

V S Naipaul - a Nobel Laureate at Hay

On Sunday I had the privilege, along with nearly a thousand other lovers of literature, of seeing Nobel Laureate Sir V S Naipaul being interviewed by Alexander Waugh. It was a strangely moving event. The interview concentrated on Naipaul’s new book Letters Between a Father and A Son. The plan of the event was sound: a general discussion of what is in the letters, a short reading by Naipaul and then questions from the audience. The reality was somewhat different and good deal sadder. The interview started well, there was some light sparring about what was intended and then detail of Naipaul’s relationship with his father and the influence on them both of Gault MacGowan, one time editor of the Trinidad Guardian who employed Sir Vidia’s father as a reporter.

Apparently, Naipaul’s father found it difficult to find things to write about of his own volition and Naipaul had suggested that he write about his early life. This reminiscence suddenly became remarkably potent and moved Sir Vidia to tears as he recalled his father’s unwillingness to do that for fear of bringing shame on his family over a matter that today would be regarded as trivial. It was clear by the pregnant pause that followed that Naipaul was quite distressed and tears were visible below his eyes. From that point, something was lost and although he appeared to recover, his enthusiasm for the interview had dissipated. When he got to his reading, he seemed gradually to retreat within himself and went of for so long that there was no time for questions and eventually the session was concluded, not by Alexander Waugh, but by the spontaneous applause from the audience who clearly wanted to prevent further embarrassment for Sir Vidia and to allow them to get to their next event. A sad and unfortunate end to an event that had started so promisingly.

A point that fascinated me from early on was Sir Vidia’s assertion that his love of the novel as a literary form had declined since his youth, and like most men, fact becomes more important than fiction as we grow older. I know I’m happier when I have both a work of fiction and a work of fact on the bedside table at the same time.