Hay-on-Wye
Sunshine, Bookshops, and the Slowest Stampede in History
I’ve never been in a stampede before. Turns out, when you’re surrounded by people in linen shirts and sensible walking sandals, a stampede looks less like chaos and more like the start of a National Trust guided tour. But I’m getting ahead of myself. This was my second year at the Hay Festival , and it absolutely delivered. I went with my mate Mike, and we were determined to squeeze the most out of it. Books, brains, laughter, gin — the works. If you’ve never been, Hay Festival is what happens when thousands of bookworms, thinkers, comedians, and cultural icons descend on a small Welsh town and build a pop-up literary city in the middle of some stunning countryside. There are talks, interviews, panels, debates, comedy sets, signings, wine, tote bags, and a surprising number of dogs in bandanas. It’s been called “the Woodstock of the mind,” and while that sounds a bit smug, it’s also not wrong. Getting There and Getting Settled Mike and I hired a cottage half an hour away, which might sound like a pain but meant a gorgeous drive through the hills every morning. Sunshine, sheep, winding roads; it felt like the intro to a BBC drama. We rolled in daily like seasoned pros, with packed schedules and an appetite for ideas (and falafel). The site is essentially a tented city: giant marquees seating hundreds or thousands, wide walkways lined with stalls, food trucks, overpriced belts (£60 for something that holds your trousers up?), and a huge central bookshop where your wallet goes to die. There are tables and benches for food, but securing one involves tactical planning or extremely polite bench-hovering. This is Hay, after all. Fights are replaced with soft-voiced negotiations. “Would you terribly mind if I just squeezed in here?” Middle-Class Mecca Hay is unapologetically middle class, and I say that as someone who’s fully middle class now but grew up on the other end of the scale. There’s something disorienting about being in a place where everyone knows how to pronounce quinoa correctly. Even the toddlers. Still, the vibe is friendly, and the staff are outstanding, especially when it comes to accessibility. Mike has a walking stick, and every single volunteer went above and beyond. Without us asking, we were ushered into the patron’s queue for every event, skipping the snaking general and member queues, getting to the front row every time. No fuss, no drama. Just kindness. We’d sit and chat before each talk while watching the queue flood in behind us like a scene from The Walking Dead, only with more Patagonia jackets and Guardian totes. It was the slowest stampede in history; relentless, quiet, and determined. Sessions, Celebs, and Surprises We crammed in as many sessions as we could handle. Al Murray and Chris McCausland brought the laughs. Austentatious delivered genius improv. Adam Buxton, Julian Clary, and Stephen Fry (who I’m pretty sure runs the place at this point) spoke with charm and depth. We saw Susie Dent in full word-nerd glory, Tom Holland (the historian, not Spidey), Anton du Beke talking ballroom and books, and even Alistair Campbell deep in conversation with the President of Albania about European politics in a Trump-splattered world. There was even a solid session on AI that didn’t just descend into doom. Each session lasts about an hour, with audience questions at the end. The only challenge? Timing. If you’re not a member, you have to leave one talk early to join the queue for the next. It starts to feel like you’re always chasing your own tail. So take my advice: get the membership. It’s not expensive, and it makes everything smoother. The Town Beyond the Tents One of the best bits of going to Hay is exploring Hay-on-Wye itself. Every third shop is a bookshop, the rest are cafés, antique stores, or hidden gems selling things you didn’t know you needed until you saw them. There’s a gin brewery in town that’s absolutely worth a visit. The antique shops are full of oddities, and you can haggle a bit if you keep it friendly. Just avoid the map shop — lovely place, but the prices are ridiculous. You’re better off looking, nodding, and moving on. Food, Drink, and Reusable Cups The food on site is excellent — overpriced, yes, but varied enough to suit any palate. I had duck wraps, artisan toasties, and a very posh ice cream. You buy a reusable cup with a deposit, so if you forget to bring it back the next day, you’ll end up paying again. It’s a clever system, but easy to mess up if your brain is still in Stephen Fry mode. We ended each day tired but buzzing. We didn’t hit the pub scene too hard — we were there for the experience, not the hangover — but the gin brewery might’ve tempted us once or twice. The Only Problem It needs saying: the lack of diversity in the audience is stark. There’s decent age and gender spread, but in terms of race, class, and background, it’s worryingly homogenous. The event is open to all, but when everyone in a crowd looks the same, you can’t pretend that access isn’t an issue. It’s something the festival needs to address, actively and urgently. Would I Go Again? Definitely. It’s clever, funny, thought-provoking, and weirdly exhausting in a good way. And yes — it ends up feeling like a mini cultural holiday. I’d do it all again tomorrow. And when that slow-motion stampede of polite readers with folding chairs starts coming toward me next year, I’ll be ready. Top Tips for Hay Festival First-Timers 🧳 Don’t Queue If You Don’t Need To Bag checks at the main entrance only apply if you’ve actually got a bag. No bag? Just stroll on through. 🎟 Get Membership It’s cheap and skips most of the queues. You’ll thank yourself. 📅 Don’t Over-Schedule Leave gaps between sessions. Non-members often miss the end of one just to queue for the next. 🥤 Reuse Your Cup Unless you want to keep paying that deposit over and over. 📚 Visit Hay Town Bookshops, antiques, gin. Take a few hours to wander the high street. 🗺 Avoid the Map Shop Beautiful, yes. Affordable? Not even close.