The Hay Festival (at Hay on Wye, Wales) is over for another year but the stories linger. Canadian author Margaret Atwood wrote a few pieces about it for the Guardian. You can read her blog here.
This bit about the new conservative young 'uns really tickled me.
Everyone was genial. Gone are the days, it seems, when authors would yell at each other or get blind drunk and fall backwards out of plate-glass windows. Or maybe the younger generation saves that part until after I have gone off to bed. Rumour has it that there was dancing.
Nah. They were probably all sitting around in their Peter Alexander pyjamas and fluffy bunny slippers, sipping hot chocolate with marshmallows.