I’m now reading Norwegian Wood by Murakami Haruki. Clive James can leave the building. I completed about three chapters of North Face of Soho but decided to forgo the last 200 pages or so. All of the joy of his first three volumes of memoirs – and, in particular, the lively and hilarious Unreliable Memoirs that deals with his Australian childhood – is missing and is replaced by one dreary and self-congratulatory ‘anecdote’ after another about contract negotiations. How disappointing.
Green Man on Friday. I keep glancing nervously at the wet weather outside. The tent is still up in the back garden getting soaked and I will need to have it packed on Thursday so drying it out will be an issue. My main cause for cloudbursting concern is, of course, the festival itself. There is a world of difference between strolling round a site with a hot sun on your back and having to suffer showers when your favourite act is on stage. All fingers are crossed for an improvement and the five day forecast indicates an upturn by the end of the week. The full running order with timings has been posted on the Uncut site.