I am scrambling to finish everything before I set off to Galle this scorching afternoon. I must print out material for a workshop I'm running, I must reach Brian Keenan on the road, I must find my sunglasses. I can only imagine what the Festival organisers are up to at this moment, laying in the final touches before tomorrow. My festival bag arrived yesterday and the meticulous organisation of tickets and schedules within it I think bodes well. I'm really quite excited.
Since the festival begins tomorrow there is a little time now just to talk about Galle. Galle has always been one of my favourite places in the country. Not only is the sea at nearly it's bluest at Galle but inside the Fort is a town in miniature, and out of time. The old streetlamps and the Dutch streetnames and the mosque bear (in miniature) the history of this place that was a Portuguese settlement, a fort of the Dutch East India company and where a predominantly Muslim population now live their daily life.
I hope the residents of Galle are amenable to the imminent literary influx. See you there tomorrow.
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