As the 25th anniversary of the Hay Festival arrived, so did the rain. I’m not surprised, and I wonder why everyone else is. It is as much a part of the tradition as the Telegraph bags (even if they aren’t the Guardian – they are MUCH nicer than last years, thankyouverymuch), sitting on the lawn with a book (or at the edge of the walkway, given the weather), craning for a glimpse of the famous and infamous (and maybe even sitting behind one at supper) and cleaning glitter off the back of your jacket from where some child (likely mine) bumped into you after joyfully creating a masterpiece in an event…