Queuing to enter the Guardian Stage

The British love queuing; and the French love driving on congested roads. These are national stereotypes, you might say and, of course, you are right. But there is also some truth to them. The British do like queuing at literature festivals. It is quite remarkable – and difficult to rationalize, considering that the seating arrangements are nothing special. This is also reflected in the uniform prices. For most events you pay £ 6, whether you sit at the front or the back. There is no disadvantage in sitting at the back. The high-resolution screens and microphones mean that you can feel ‘close’ to the writer on the screen whether you are sitting up front or further behind. So, why do literature festival visitors like queuing? Well, probably they don’t, but they do so because that is what everyone else is doing and because that is what you do at festivals or when you go to a museum. This is a phenomenon that deserves further research, no doubt: the psychology or sociology (or what about the politics?) of queuing. On the other hand, it is probably a good thing that people queue. Imagine everyone behaving like I did, i.e. arriving the very last, when everyone has already taken their seats and having to sneak in by the back door. That would be chaotic and would lead to terrible scheduling. This must be it: the British like queuing because they have good manners and hence value punctuality. The Hay Festival is indeed one of the most marvellously punctual events that I have ever come across: simply amazing – it all starts on time and finishes on time. This, in turn, gives you a good insight into why literature festivals are probably most successful when they are national (or local) rather than international. Imagine an international festival bringing together British, Greeks, Swedes and Egyptians. Would that work and, if it did, who would get their way in setting the rules for queuing or timing?