I can't drive. To say I never bothered to learn how to drive will be a lie to myself. I tried and gave up. Trying to get a driver's licence in Zimbabwe is a cash strapping dream. You have to pay bribes no less than ten times. So, why bother, when my legs need no fuel to motor them (besides fuel is a rare commodity in Zimbabwe). I know I am digressing from Hay but the point I am trying to make is that I woke up this morning and it was sunny. Instead of waiting for the shuttle bus to take me to the festival site. I walked.
I enjoy reading the signs, the posters, and the bunting covering the streets. Most of the bookshops are still closed at 8:03am with forbidding signs dangling: CLOSED. There are a few people walking about. Perhaps the attraction of the festival is not so much in itself but also in the town where people come to see the 30+ second hand bookshops. A man is zooming his camera to take a good shot of the Castle Bookshop.
Big names hogged the limelight today - Gillian Clarke, Sebastian Faulks, Turkish and Lord Butler. While the ideal will be to sit in for all talks, it is practically impossible. I didn't manage to see any of the writers on stage.
I happened to be standing besides Edna O'Brien in Pemberton's bookshop when she was signing copies of her new book, The Light of Evening. When people come to have their books signed, they ask questions, they request chance photos with the writer. The queue was long and moved in a snail pace.
Bob Geldof's scintillating performance maintained the exciting atmosphere at the festival already midway. I didn't grow up with Bob Geldof music, but there was no harm joining the party.
