On Saturday morning, there are posh loos with – joy of joys – hot running water, allowing me to wash my face before making a cup of tea outside the tent. Rob texts me to say that he and Richard have gone to eat at Lulu’s in the hospitality tent. My appetite doesn’t tend to kick in until later, so, when they return, we go for a wander around the site. After careful perusal of the food on offer, I go for the ‘top scram’ all-you-can-eat breakfast at the noodle bar at the far end of the site, near the acoustic stage – egg, bacon, sausage, eggy bread, beans and brown sauce, with a mug of tea thrown in – all for a fiver. This…
I’m not at all good at early starts but I click awake at 5.59, a minute ahead of the alarm clock. I’m ready to go when the taxi shows up at 6.30. I’m the first to arrive at Rob’s (our companions living much closer to him) but we’re on the road by seven, stopping only for a second breakfast somewhere on the M5. Traffic is light and we approach the festival site through back lanes. There’s no queuing whatsoever, in stark contrast to my 2000 experience (this diary will assume you’ve read my 2000 diary and the novel Festival). The main suspense is whether there’ll be room in the hospitality car park (there’s loads) and – now this is more familiar – when it will…
Piled around me are a borrowed tent (I left my old one at Glasto 2000), a sleeping roll, sleeping bag, toiletries, a towel, a baseball cap, giant torch, pillow, sweater, a kagoul, two polo shirts, shorts, a sweater, an REM t-shirt and two changes of underwear. Downstairs are 4 cds I’ve made for the journey, some food and a little alcohol. I just need to dig out my wellies, then choose what book I’m going to read (I have to read before going to sleep last thing at night, no matter where I am) and make some sarnies. I’ve finally finished the fat novel, Flicker, that I’ve been reading for the last week – it sagged a bit towards the end, unfortunately. I might take…
Welcome to the web-site of Nottingham novelist, David Belbin. The site includes a biography, a bibliography and a regularly updated diary discussing matters that might be of interest to readers. As a professional writer, I’m a firm believer in Samuel Johnson’s dictum: No man but a blockhead ever wrote, except for money. That said, a web-site is a useful promotional tool and readers will only keep coming back if the content is frequently refreshed. So it will be. Except when I’m away or immersed in writing a novel. There’ll probably be as much stuff about music as there is about literature. Indeed, the diary element begins with an account of the 2003 Glastonbury festival, following on from the 2000 diary (researching my novel Festival) that…
I was born in Sheffield, moved to Leicester when I was two and West Kirby, on the Wirral, when I was five. I’m the eldest of four children. When I was sixteen, we moved to Colne, in Lancashire, where my dad still lives. I went to university in Nottingham. I liked the city so much I’ve stayed here ever since. I still have strong ties with Sheffield though: my sister, youngest brother and oldest friend all live there. I did a degree in English Literature and American Studies. After graduating, I tried to write a novel but ended up becoming more of a full time activist – for CND, my trade union and the Labour Party. After eighteen months on the dole, I did a…