So little time, so much stuff to see: that, in essence, is the story of Latitude. Now in its fifth year, this Suffolk festival offers a bewildering cultural cornucopia: music, theatre, dance, cabaret, comedy, circus, literature, poetry, as well as unexpected oddities such as performers dressed as unicorns wandering the woods at night and teams of ghoulish “medics” defibrillating random victims (I was one of them) during theatre group Duckie’s Saturday night masked ball. It’s a blast (albeit one that is almost entirely white and middle class - a state of affairs that has led to it being dubbed “Lattetude”). And it was made especially lovely this year by the weather gods, who delivered a couple of brief bursts of rain but otherwise blessed the event with clear warm dry days.

Nigel Simeone’s engaging study of Bernstein’s score of West Side Story could almost be entitled “Collaboration: The Manual”, so deftly does it interweave Bernstein’s originality with the contributions of his stellar team-mates. Jerome Robbins conceived, choreographed and directed the Broadway show; Arthur Laurents wrote the book; Stephen Sondheim, in his first Broadway outing, wrote the lyrics; Hal Prince came in at a late stage when the original producer quit. (“It’s about a bunch of teenagers in blue jeans...a cast of total unknowns, and it ends tragically.”)

Above the Stag, an unpromising-looking, ominously shuttered gay pub in the ungainly heart of Victoria, a little miracle has been taking place. Word of mouth quickly sold out an intelligent adaptation of E M Forster's great coming-out novel Maurice, so the run has been extended until this Saturday. At the time of writing there were a few seats left for the final performance; as for a transfer, who knows?

Friends bought tickets for this one, so I came to it fearing all that's bad about pub theatre (and from some I've seen, it couldn't be much worse). How wrong I was. Roger Parsley and Andy Graham have selected nearly all of Forster's most significant one-to-ones. The clarity of his prose keeps datedness or sentimentality at bay, and it's much assisted by Tim McArthur's sure-footed direction as well as some first-class acting from Adam Lilley's ambivalent hero - excellent in conflict with poor sister Ada (Persia Lawson) - and from Jonathan Hansler in two consummate cameos. Unless you're fixated on the image of Rupert Graves's gamekeeper in the cagier Merchant-Ivory film - I'm not - then Stevie Raine's Alec is all that could be desired. Further details from Above the Stag Theatre's website.

“If I were a woman I would shag as many of you as had pubes and pricks that gave me sexual pleasure…” No less elderly than he is eminent, Professor Stanley Wells – editor of the Oxford Shakespeare and international authority on the Bard – smiles placidly around the room at his blue-rinsed audience. It’s less than 10 minutes into my first event at Oxford’s prestigious literary festival, and decidedly not what I had anticipated.

"Russia has a remarkable and ancient tradition of wooden buildings that dates back to the tenth century, with the remains of Medieval fortresses demonstrating the sophistication of the Nordic wooden construction methods employed across Russia and Scandinavia at the time. In the 18th century Peter the Great’s policy of broader cultural engagement between Russia and the rest of Europe stimulated cultural influence both to and from Russia, finding its way into the rich urban and architectural language of the time.

Four decades ago, a bunch of good books fell through the net. The year was 1970, in which the Booker Prize – as it was then sponsorlessly known – was inaugurated. The original winner was Bernice Rubens with The Elected Member, but it now seems that she may have had an easy run of it.

Thursday

Never been to the Galle Literary Festival before. Very excited. A long weekend of bona fide book-nerdishness is just what I need – if only to stop me lying on the roof for three days with a book. Also I have one-on-one time lined up with Wendy Cope and Rana Dasgupta. Wendy Cope is my heroin(e), the woman who showed me that poetry could be funny. Dasgupta is Delhi’s enfant génial, or so says Sir Salman Rushdie. I’ll take his word for it.