Waiting for Christmas

Perhaps my favourite part of Christmas is Christmas Eve - there is something quite special about the preparations, something quite magical about the waiting.

In our family we don't put up and decorate the tree until Christmas Eve and as I was doing so today I was aware of what a "memory tree" ours is. I can remember exactly where each of the decorations came from (shopping with my mother forty years ago, watching an excited child running out of school with an outsize plaster of Paris model of a bell they'd made, a tiny Father Christmas who fell out of a cracker ....). I remember all the Christmas Eves when the children were small, sitting by the tree taking it in turns to read verses from the Christmas story, all the feeling and shaking of parcels beneath it as they guessed at the possible contents.

And laying the table in readiness too - memories of Christmas meals of the past, the occasional disasters (the year the turkey didn't defrost, the time smoke from a burning duck billowed out of the kitchen ..), the family stories that came out year after year, the people who have sat with us to celebrate. No wonder Christmas features so large in many literary works - such a rich seam of memory and anecdotes!

Wherever and whenever you are reading this - I hope you have a really happy time celebrating whatever festival you celebrate at this time of year - and may it be a peaceful time for us all.

Plants and Pledges

Well, my Christmas cactus, which is always ablaze with blooms by now, is sporting one solitary flower; I don't think it appreciated the trim I gave it back in the summer. But my outdoor azalea, which is usually glorious for Easter, is in full flower now! And my neighbour's garden is full of daffodils ...

Lovely - but will it flower again at Easter?!

But one thing that is running true to form is Catchword, my writing group. A year or so ago I was at a talk one evening when the speaker, a popular author, said that she had never had any writing success whilst with a writing group and she saw little value in them. I beg to differ in a big way on that one. For me, a supportive group where people give constructive feedback on my writing, introduce me through their writing to new ideas and approaches, share in my successes and commiserate when things don't go so well - that is immensely helpful to me. At our Catchword meeting yesterday we were looking at the individual goals we had set ourselves a couple of months ago, evaluating how far we had got with them and planning for the next few months. I find that committing to something in a group situation certainly improves my subsequent motivation!

A social season ...

... and yes, it was a very good evening! Our Christmas Crackers party last Friday celebrated both a year of New Bohemian activity and the launch of "Poetry Among The Paintings" with mulled wine and mince pies, hauntingly beautiful cello music played by Geoff March and a seasonal open mic. We had a very appreciative audience for our Picaresque readings and we do hope those who bought pamphlets enjoy our other poems in them too.

And tomorrow evening (Wednesday Dec. 16th) sees yet another poetry party, this time at Smokey Joes in Bennington Street here in Cheltenham - a winter solstice one, complete with a poetry quiz and prizes for the best winter solstice costume! Who / what would you come as? I think we might have a glut of Father Christmases - think outside the box, as they say ...

See you there?

A great walk with our  dog yesterday in the Wye Valley, where we shall shortly be spending a lot more time. We were blessed with a mild day and beautiful winter sunshine; no wonder the area was a great favourite of Wordsworth's - and so many other poets - you can't fail to be inspired by the wonderful scenery. My mother always loved the valley with all the autumn tints, but for me every season there has its own attractions.

Tomorrow evening sees the launch of our Picaresque pamphlet "Poetry Among The Paintings" at the New Bohemians Christmas Crackers evening at Deepspace Artworks here in Charlton Kings. Do come if you are free (7.30pm in Hamilton Street, tickets £6.50 on the door, including drinks and nibbles). Perhaps bring a seasonal poem for the open mic, enjoy some pleasant company and hear some great poetry -  it promises to be a really good evening.

I know where I'm going ...

How many writers pressed "word count" at midnight last night and breathed a sigh of relief that they'd actually achieved their NaNoWriMo objective?! Well done to everyone who did - I certainly stand in awe of anyone who can put in such tremendous effort over that period of time to come up with a first draft of a novel. The hard work of  rewriting, editing, polishing, etc. etc still to come, I know, but actually getting those words down and the story on paper in the first place is a great achievement in itself.

For me it proved a useful month, "getting my house in order" and prioritising my writing projects. I've now got a much clearer picture in my mind of what I am aiming to do with "Digging Up The Family". It really is proving a far more extensive project than I had first envisaged, encompassing not only the story of my predecessors over a two hundred year period but also putting their lives into the appropriate social and political context and telling the tale of my "quest" to research and write it. I've now set myself the goal of completing the first draft within twelve months, so a concentrated period of work ahead!

Nineteenth century Ebbw Vale miners - my current area of research

Christmas is coming ...

There's no getting away from it - Christmas is on its way. Nothing annoys me more than seasonal stuff appearing in the shops in September and carols being sung weeks beforehand but I suppose the beginning of December is fair game. And, as we're very nearly there, I did go to a very wet and windy Christmas market in Moreton in Marsh today and actually quite enjoyed it.

But last Sunday friends came to lunch fresh from their traditional "Stir-Up Sunday" morning in the kitchen. If you're not familiar with that - the Sunday next before Advent in the church calendar is traditionally when Christmas puddings are made, though the "stir-up" strictly relates to the opening of the collect for that day, "Stir up, we beseech thee O Lord, the wills of thy faithful people ..." rather than to the culinary activity.  It started me thinking about the Christmas puddings of my childhood, made by my maternal (very chapel) grandmother ....

Nanna's Stir-Up Sunday

Her house sanctified
by the scent of cinnamon,
she sings as she stirs,
praising the Lord with puddings,
dropping her widow's mites          
into the Christmas treasury,
making her wish -

that the meek 
may inherit the earth,         
that her children may rise up
and call her blessed,
that their days may be long
in the land.

(Copyright Gill Garrett 2015)

November marches on

Well, we are more than two thirds of the way through NaNoWriMo and I'm hugely impressed with how some of my friends are doing with their novels. Keep up the good work out there! My progress with my more modest goals has been steady, though somewhat slowed by domestic circumstances yet again. But I've completed an on-line course I was undertaking and have certainly got my outstanding writing projects marshalled into better order - I know what my priorities are now (largely relating to my "Digging Up The Family" write-up) and I'm beginning to wrestle them into submission.

But poetry has been top of the agenda over the past few days. Our monthly Cheltenham poetry event, Well Versed, saw a visit from Trisha Torrington, poet and printmaker, along with her partner, Michael Henry. They have collaborated on a number of projects and it was interesting to hear their different takes in poems based on shared experiences. Then yesterday evening was the long-awaited auction in aid of the Cheltenham Poetry Festival  (especially to support its outreach work); lots varied from Antonia Gilbert's wonderful chocolate truffles, through 1:1 sessions with distinguished local poets to a solitaire diamond ring. Well over £900 was raised and a good evening was had by all.

Today I was at Poetry Swindon's workshop with the American poet Kathryn Maris at the Richard Jefferies Museum. Based on the work of Jo Brainard, the theme was "I remember" and what a fascinating seam of recollections that tapped into with the group! Little time to follow them up with much concrete output, but I think we all came away with a lot of raw material from which to work.

Kathryn Maris

The Spoken Word As An Art Form

A fun morning yesterday. I was asked to represent the Cheltenham Poetry Festival at the Cheltenham Ladies College and to introduce the poet and performance artist Rebecca Tantony, who was to run a workshop with a group of students aged 12 - 14. It was my first meeting with Rebecca, but I shall certainly see to it that it isn't my last!

It was fascinating to see how Rebecca engaged with the students and involved every single one of them in the exercises she did. There was a near riot in the Rhyming Wars game! But peace descended and concentration was etched on every face for the "What makes me me?" exercise at the end of the morning. Six brave students then volunteered to perform their poetry - which was brilliant and extremely moving. A thoroughly enjoyable session.

Rebecca Tantony

Rebecca teaches creative writing to all sorts of groups and has been writer in residence at very varied venues. I recently came across her book "Talk you round till dusk" (Burning Eye). It's a great mixture of poems, flash fiction and superb illustrations byAnna Higgie. Well worth a look if you've not seen it.

Getting out the red pen ..

Until this week I wasn't familiar with Auden's words - "A poem is never finished, only abandoned". But I was at an excellent workshop on Tuesday in which we were looking at editing - hardly sounds the most riveting of subjects, but I learned a lot of very useful lessons. Less is often more and coming back to a piece of work after some time, looking at it with fresh eyes and editing appropriately can certainly be the making of it. I've been reviewing some of my older poems since and finding many opportunities to "tighten them up" - and some do read a whole lot better for it!.

Mists and mellow fruitfulness?!

The diary tells me it's November, NaNoWriMo means it definitely is November but nature in these parts seems a little confused! Walking my dog in the woods this morning I came across catkins dancing on birch branches a couple of months ahead of their usual time, and in the garden, almost buried beneath the mounds of fallen leaves I must clear up today, my primrose was in full bloom. It reminded me of a lovely story I once read as a child about the seasons swapping their characteristics with each other and the world getting into a real muddle - who it was by or what it was called I can't recall. I wonder if anyone else remembers it?

NaNoWriMo 2015

November 1st yet again - and all over the world aspiring novelists will be beavering away to get that first draft of their novel of 50,000 words written in a month. Good luck with it, everyone!

Whilst I'm not on the novel tack, I am planning to use the month for a really concentrated focus on my writing. My first task is to actually take stock of where I am at the moment; I have had several projects on the go for a while  - these need prioritising, then whipping into shape (and hopefully - for some - completing); vague ideas for poems and plays (a couple of notebooks worth) need thinking through and fleshing out. So I'm pledging at least half a day every weekday, starting tomorrow ...

If you feel inspired to do something but are not quite sure what it's all about, do look at the National Novel Writing Month website - lots of information and encouragement there, and you'll certainly have a lot of company!

Image courtesy of National Novel Writing Month

Countdown to November 1st

An interesting couple of poetry events in the last week - firstly the launch of Anna Saunders' "Kissing The She Bear", a collaborative venture with photographer William Humphries. It's a really lovely exploration of myths from far and wide and the marriage of poems and photographs works quite magically. The second event was a cream tea at the Greenway Hotel in Shurdington that accompanied a reading by the Cheltenham Poetry Festival Players; the theme was "Gardens" and we were entertained with a short but comprehensive coverage of works from the past five hundred years. I must say I much prefer listening to poems about gardens to actually getting out and doing much work in them!

Anna Saunders

But the main thrust here in recent days has been sorting out other commitments ready for NaNoWriMo which starts on Sunday. If I'm to make headway with my plans for the month (more of which to follow) there won't be much opportunity for the myriad household tasks that usually sap the creative energy. So it's an onslaught this week on everything I most dislike about domesticity ....

Looking beneath the familiar

Catchword, my writing group, had an “AwayDay” yesterday in the small Cotswold town of Painswick. After coffee at the Patchwork Mouse, we explored individually for a while, seeking inspiration in the historic buildings and fabulous surrounding countryside. Then, after a very good lunch at the Butchers Arms in Sheepscombe, we adjourned for a writing afternoon at one of our number's home.

I have lived not ten miles from Painswick for more then twenty years and have visited often during that time but, thinking about the day later, I thought how true my friend Susie's comment was - 'The interesting thing is that if you go to a place to write, then the place becomes more interesting because you look at it with an artist’s eyes rather than being  detached or disconnected from it. Writing gives you a more direct connection ... and this may be something to remember in other places, even those that are familiar.'

I certainly saw in Painswick yesterday so much that I had overlooked before - and gained a lot of inspiration for new writing. Watch this space as they say!

"In Performance"

We were a small, select little band at Deepspaceworks Arts Centre here in Charlton Kings on Friday evening for a New Bohemians workshop. Actor and poet Eley Furrell and his partner Kim facilitated an evening of tremendous fun, concentrating on the basic skills of performance - skills so vital to writers of both prose and poetry in today's world of constant readings, interviews, media visibility. Lots to learn but a safe, supportive group in which to practice - a really good session.

Eley and Kim

The next New Bohemians event will be on December 11th - "Christmas Crackers". In addition to our Christmas celebration, the evening will see the launch of Picaresque's new pamphlet, "Poetry Among The Paintings". Do put the date in your diary now - we'd love to see you there for what promises to be a great evening.

Crossroads

There was a very apt quote in the  pamphlet of winning entries for this year's Gloucestershire Writers Network competition - Flannery O'Connor's words "The writer operates at a peculiar crossroads where time and place and eternity somehow meet. His problem is to find that location."

The overall theme of the Literature Festival here this year was "Defining Moments" and on Sunday evening at the "locally sourced" event it was fascinating to see how different competition entrants had responded to the challenge of writing about "Crossroads" in their poetry and prose. Short stories spanned everything from the unexpected outcome of a driving test to the horror of lynchings in the American Deep South; poems encompassed villanelles and blank verse sonnets. A very good evening - and it was lovely to be a participant in it.

National Poetry Day

Yesterday was National Poetry Day, celebrated nationwide on radio and television, in newspapers and magazines and very much in style at Smokey Joes in Cheltenham. Angela France and Roger Turner headlined our event, preceded by a lively open mic session. Our theme was "Gloucestershire" and poems celebrated the wonderful countryside and the interesting towns with which we are blessed. Naturally my contribution had to be an appreciation of our great river ...

Severn Sunset

We walk with the living and the dead

who strode this slow stretch

at low tide to Evensong's toll

in the sunset shimmering light

of a thousand summers,

and sharp-eyed, long-shanked waders

emerge from sighing reeds

to gorge on the bare expanses

of the river's sandy entrails

as dusk softens the Forest shore

where the hills beyond the hills

fade into the mind of yesterday.

(Copyright Gill Garrett 2014)

Frankie March at the open mic

Stop the world ...

Perhaps you know that feeling - when you'd like the world to slow down just a little so that you could jump off and catch up with yourself. So much going on at present and no time to deal with it all, to do things properly ....

The Canal Laureate, Jo Bell

Swindon Festival of Poetry and the Cheltenham Literature Festival clash every year, which is a real shame when both have excellent events that you'd love to go to. Last Friday I spent a great morning at the lovely Lower Shaw Farm in Swindon at a workshop with Jo Bell, their poet in residence this year. Jo was an archaeologist before she took to poetry and canals, living on a narrowboat on the English waterways, and she writes brilliantly (and often very humorously) about both of her existences. If you haven't come across her latest publication, "Kith" (Nine Arches Press), do get hold of a copy - there are some fantastic poems in there.

Within hours of the workshop I was back in Cheltenham and at the Festival here to listen to Pat Barker, in conversation with Antony Beevor. I have always loved her WW1 Regeneration Trilogy, and recently read "Noonday", her latest novel that follows on from "Life Class" and "Toby's Room" to take WW1 characters through to the 1940s London Blitz - an excellent read. Then on Saturday I was able to hear another of my favourite authors, Kate Atkinson, talking about her most recent novels and also about the craft of writing, which I found fascinating.

But now it's back down to work, to the more challenging prospect of writing myself rather than listening to others talking about their writing!

Walking history

I've written a lot in the past about the River Severn, in poetry and in prose, but I'm currently working on some poems about the Wye  My favourite walks are always by water (and preferably through woods) so over the last couple of days I've really been in my element. Yesterday we were walking by the Wye near Monmouth and the old Welsh legend of the three sisters, the Rivers Hafren (the Severn in English), Varga (the Wye) and Ystwyth, came to mind.

All three rivers arise on Plynlimon in mid Wales but the story goes that from there, in their youth, they decided to strike out in different directions. Ystwyth, being lazy, took the shortest route to the sea, setting off to the west; Hafren, who was bold and beautiful and sought the company of men, made her way through towns and villages down to the Bristol Channel. But Varga was shy and retiring  - she took the hidden way through quiet hills and secret places to meet up with Hafren at their journey's end. And that to me exemplifies the wonderful Wye Valley - a place of peace and quiet, quite magical to walk.

Varga - shy and retiring

Today I was walking my dog down by the Sharpness and Gloucester Canal, another favourite place of mine and about which I'm currently preparing a script for a radio programme on "Walking History". It's only been in recent years that I've appreciated how interesting the stories behind our canals - their origins, their working pasts and their current regeneration - can be. Next week I'm going to a workshop on the Swindon Poetry Festival run by Jo Bell, the Canals Laureate; I'm really looking forward to meeting her and to working on some ideas with her.

The swing bridge at Purton

A Literary Pilgrimage

Looking over towards Exmoor

We spent a couple of days this week down in North Devon, on the edge of Exmoor, where (many moons ago!) my husband was at school at West Buckland. He had been invited back to give a careers talk to the senior pupils there and we had a fascinating tour of a school which now presents a very different face to the world from that which he knew in the 1960s!

But for me the visit held a different interest. Many years ago I read "To Serve Them All My Days" by R. F. Delderfield, who had been a  pupil at West Buckland just after the First World War and who used the school and its history as the basis for the book. I'm now rereading it, and loving it as much this time as I did before. Delderfield was a  master of description and the passages about the moorland in particular paint beautifully vivid pictures of that scenic part of the world; his use of the story of David Powlett-Jones to illustrate the changes in education and the social turmoil of the inter-war period makes for a very engrossing read. If you're not familiar with the book, it's well worth having a look at.

A part of the old school Delderfield would have known

Tools of the Trade

When we arrived back after our few days walking the Wales Coastal Path (with a gratifying further forty miles under our belts) there was news of a poem I had submitted for "Tools of the Trade". Each year, when Scottish medical students graduate, they are given an anthology of poems relevant to their future practice, many written by health care practitioners. As a now retired lecturer in nursing studies, I was delighted to hear that mine had been chosen to appear on the Scottish Poetry Library website.

The title "Tools of the Trade" reminds me of a visit we made on the last day of our walking trip to the Margam Stones Museum, which houses the most amazing collection of memorial stones from the ninth century onwards. They have been brought to the museum (a Victorian schoolroom building) from various locations in Wales and are beautifully displayed. The most impressive was the huge wheel cross of Conbelin but my favourite was the smaller cross of Grutne, a tenth century memorial with the inscription "In the name of God the most high this cross of Christ was erected by Grutne for the soul of Ahest". Given the limitations on the "tools of the trade" all those centuries ago, the intricacies of the techniques are so impressive. Research into who Ahest may have been have so far proved fruitless but - as always! - there must be a story there ....

Back on the trail ...

After quite a long break, last week we resumed our Wales Coastal Path walk - in wonderful late summer weather and, despite the notice in the photo above, with no untoward events! There's some spectacular scenery on the Glamorgan stretch of the path and interesting history to follow up on. The only down side - I had thought I'd broken in my new walking boots sufficiently before setting out but unfortunately now have the odd blister to show for it - largely I think from upping and downing across Kenfig Dunes, sand walking never being easy on the feet.

I'm always interested in the local myths and legends of the places we visit and they abound in the areas we've passed through here. Kenfig was a large medieval town, the largest in Glamorgan until, in the 14th century, the sea and then the dunes encroached upon the land to the extent that it became uninhabitable. Sand now covers everything except a very few stony remains of the castle. But legend has it that, if you visit Kenfig Pool at dusk on an autumn evening, you will hear the church bell toll beneath its waters ....

Kenfig Pool

On another stretch, near Cwm Nash, we came upon the remains of an old mill in quite isolated woodland, by the side of a rushing stream that tumbled down towards the sea. I could find out little about its actual history but, as I explored it, my mind was busy weaving stories. I wondered about who might have built it, what events the stones had seen over the years. Such fertile ground for writing! As we covered the miles that day I had all sorts of companions walking by my side - ones who may well see the light of day in forthcoming stories. As always for me, walking provides such great opportunities.

Festivals and Friends

I was delighted to hear earlier this week that I shall be reading at the Cheltenham Literature Festival again in October as a story of mine was shortlisted in the prose section of the Gloucestershire Writer's Network competition. The public booking opens this week and I shall be there for tickets for several events. However, I must say that I was rather disappointed when looking at the overall programme; quite a lot of the events appear to be simply opportunities for "celebrities" to showcase new books and the cost of some events is beyond me - much though I would like to hear the speakers, I'm not prepared to pay for the two course lunch or the "afternoon tea with finger sandwiches" that accompanies them. This is a literature festival after all!

A busy week with other things too. I spent a great afternoon at the P3 charity in Pitville facilitating a poetry class with some of their service users. We took "our names" as a theme and it was remarkable what came out of the exercise. Many thanks to Josh for inviting me and to the group for making me so welcome.

On Tuesday we had our Picaresque summer lunch at the home of one of our members in Stroud and, despite dismal August weather, had a thoroughly enjoyable time. Two of our group weren't able to join us but we raised a glass to them and look forward to getting back together in the coming months for more poetry writing and performances. I've found belonging to the group enormously beneficial - over the last couple of years we have all become close friends as well as fellow travellers on our poetry journeys and the support and encouragement I've received has seen me through some difficult patches. The same applies to my colleagues at the Catchword writing group in Cirencester. I know that writing groups don't work for some people but I'm certainly not one of them!

Normality resumed

Always difficult coming back to normality after some time away - especially when the weather turns miserable, work piles up in the study and the house etc. etc ... but I had a gentle re-introduction at the weekend with a couple of nice walks with the dog (who was very pleased to see me home again!) before having to attack the e mails, the ironing and the rest of the minutiae of everyday life.

I always find walking inspirational - the sheer physicality of it as well as what I may see or hear. On Sunday we had a call to make in the Forest of Dean; later we drove on down to the River Wye and had a long walk along its very peaceful banks, with only the occasional company of fishermen, an odd walker or two and a few enthusiasts on the water. As we climbed a small incline into a wooded area I noticed an ancient wooden canoe upturned to the right of the path and behind it the most lovely old house, partly stone, partly half-timbered. For the rest of the afternoon my imagination ran riot around who may have lived in the house over the years. To whom did the canoe belong? How long has it lain abandoned there, what might be the history behind it? By the following morning a short story had taken root and I'm working on it today ...

Swanwick Farewell

I'm back at home for a rest! A wonderful week at Swanwick but fairly knackering - so much on offer and you don't want to miss anything. On the learning programme side, topping my list would have to be John Lamont's "Succeed On Purpose - In Life And Writing" - a motivational course with a difference - followed closely by Barney Bardsley's "Writing About Loss And Recovery". On the social side - well, where to start?! The Buskers Evening was great (some real musical talent there) and "Page To Stage" - a series of five minute plays rehearsed and produced within 24 hours - showcased some great thespian skills too. The last night pantomime was a take on "Romeo And Juliet" and brought the house down. All in all, a tremendously enjoyable and valuable learning experience - one I'll certainly hope to repeat next year.

Richard at the "Dregs Party" before dinner ....

.....and Richard after dinner! A good time had by all.

The best laid plans ...

I'd been told that the Poetry Open Mic is always popular at Swanwick, always well attended. So we were looking forward to a good audience yesterday evening as Richard, our "techie", set up the recording equipment in the Main Conference Hall, as we took up positions for a rehearsal and ran through our "Seasons" piece. But by ten to ten we were still the only people in the hall, rows and rows of empty seats staring blankly at us. By five to, total panic set in.

The simple answer of course - we'd misread the programme and the hordes were gathered in the Main Lounge, drinks in hand, poems at the ready. We skidded in with two minutes to spare, slid into the back row and composed ourselves just in time for our slot ....

Catchword Writers - aka The Four Seasons

which regrettably could not be recorded for posterity, but was well received anyway and a thoroughly enjoyable experience. A glass or two of wine restored equilibrium and we have learned our lesson for next year!

Two days in ...

Tea on the terrace

Well, everyone who told me how fantastic Swanwick Writer's Summer Schools are was spot on - the courses, social activities, the facilities here are all superb. But I was not prepared for quite how knackering it is! There's so much going on, and everything seems far too interesting to miss out on, so it's non-stop activity dawn to well past dusk. The 22.00 slot this evening is the Poetry Open Mic and the four of us here from Catchword will be performing our "Seasons" sequence - hopefully I'll have some photos to post tomorrow. But this is where you can begin your day with meditation by the lake -

....an inspiring start for any writer

I'm late, I'm late .....

In haste! I'm just packing to leave for the Swanwick Writer's Summer School later this morning and really looking forward to it - watch this space for updates on the week. But I had to write a quick post about yesterday evening's New Bohemians get-together - a really super event.

Jennie Farley

Tim Burroughs

We were only a stone's throw from where Lewis Carroll weaved magical stories for Alice a hundred and fifty years ago and we celebrated his most famous text in great style. The tables were beautifully laid for a Mad Hatter's tea party; we dined on jam tarts and cucumber sandwiches (the crusts cut off, of course) and were entertained with poems and games, stories and music. Deepspace in Charlton Kings certainly lends itself to this type of event - many thanks to Su for hosting it. And to Jennie (the Queen of Hearts), Eley (the Mad Hatter), Kim (Alice) and the wonderful musicians - Keith on guitar, Geoff March (now there's an appropriate name!) on cello, Tim Burroughs on sitar (really haunting) and Chris and Mandy, The Acoustics.                         

The next New Bohemians evening will be on Friday October 16th and will feature a fun workshop with Eley Furrell on presentation skills. Do join us if if you're in the area - 7.30pm at Deepspace in Hamiliton Street, Charlton Kings - the workshop, "bring and share readings", wine and nibbles in the interval with interesting people to chat with - what better way to spend an autumn evening?! 

Radio and Rabbits

On Thursday we recorded the next "Writer's Room" programme for Corinium Radio - as always an interesting experience. In addition to poetry and three short stories, there was also a creative non-fiction piece this time, the work of a volunteer who had gone out to Africa with the "bridge2aid" dental charity. This wasn't a charity of which I was aware and it was fascinating to hear about their work, taking treatment to developing countries and training local care workers in dental health. Do visit their website for further information.

Liz Young and Rona Laycock ready to record

A busy week ahead, culminating in the Swanwick Writer's Summer School which begins on Saturday. But Friday sees the next New Bohemians evening at Deepspace in Charlton Kings. It promises to be a great evening - a summer party with poetry and music, celebrating the 150th anniversary of Alice in Wonderland. So if you should be in the area on Friday August 7th at 7.30pm, the invitation is there to come along with a teacup and something curious! And who knows what might happen should you follow a white rabbit down a hole ....

A Worthwhile Weekend

A weekend trip up to North East Wales to walk in the Clwydian Hills provided interest on several fronts. Firstly, the area well deserves its designation as one of Outstanding Natural Beauty - from Moel Fanau on Saturday afternoon the views extended to Snowdonia in the west, the Irish Sea to the north and across to Liverpool and Chester to the east. Apparently it is sometimes possible to spot Blackpool Tower but I can't say I picked that out this time!

Our couple of days also enabled me to fulfill two long held ambitions - to visit Gladstone's Library in Hawarden and to meet the poet Wendy Cope. Founded by the prime minister William Gladstone, the library is residential and home to courses and study days on topics as varied as creative writing, film and theology, Latin in a week. Architecturally the building is fascinating, the grounds are lovely and the facilities excellent. A bistro looks out across the lawns and provides really great food.

A guest lounge, relaxing and inspiring ...

The brochure for Gladstone's Library states that "Our aim is that everyone will leave having encountered something new or unexpected". Wendy Cope's workshop ensured that for me. I have been an admirer of her poetry for many years. She is currently the Writer in Residence at the library and sixteen of us had a hugely enjoyable few hours with her looking at poetic form. Usually I come away from workshops with lots of ideas but little writing actually achieved; on Sunday I came away with concrete first drafts of two poems that I shall certainly pursue further.   

Wendy Cope

Poems and prose

Very exciting - copies of my poetry pamphlet, "Bones of an Older Landscape", have just arrived from the printers; I'm really pleased with them. They are very nicely produced and make all the effort that went into the poems feel worthwhile!

But over the past week it has been prose rather than poetry which has occupied most of my writing time. I spent a fascinating day in Newport reference library, following up on the additional research I'd identified as necessary for the next section of the family history write-up. So much material of interest there - it was a real effort to discipline myself to stick solely to the matter in hand! And then it was on to the completion of two short stories which had been a long time in gestation - a relief to get them both safely delivered and launched into the world.

Summer Away Day

Yesterday Catchword, my writing group, enjoyed an "away day" in Stroud, with a morning visit to the museum in Stratford Park, a delicious lunch at the home of one of our members and an afternoon of writing activities in her beautiful Cotswold garden.

No hint of the future ...

The museum is small but has fascinating exhibits - some definite inspiration for writing there! In the "schoolroom" gallery I was interested to find Laurie Lee's school reports; he was from Slad, of course, just two miles up the road, and attended the boys school in Stroud in the mid to late 1920s. The report at the end of his first term, Christmas 1925, would not have led to expectations of his later literary genius, stating "English - position in class 28th - disappointing"! His periods of absence and illness are documented and the difficulty he experienced in music tuition with his very poor family unable to afford a bow; a couple of years later, however, his progress and achievement are rewarded with the comment "Violin - his playing is a pleasure to himself and listeners".

Something for everyone ...

It's hard to believe that it's twelve months since I wrote about last year's Ledbury Festival - how the time whips past. But Saturday saw me back in the small Herefordshire town that is now synonymous with poetry and it proved a great day. I had gone primarily to hear the actress Juliet Stevenson reading Emily Dickinson's poetry, interspersed with Mark Fisher's narration of the poet's life story, and for Simon Armitage's session on "Walking Away", the prose and poetry account of his walk along the South West Coastal Path. But so much else was going on, much of it free to attend, and all of it thoroughly enjoyable.

The doctor will see you now ...

On the corner of High Street and Church Lane sat a retired ambulance from which the "Emergency Poet" Derborah Alma dispensed poems and wisdom. Her display was stocked with "medication" for most "ailments" you could think of and everyone was invited to try a therapy. The agony of decision - should I take an antidote to the strenuous life? A pill for unrequited love? Should I try "poetry viagra"? In the end I concluded that I needed something for reassurance and, in the large blue capsule I had to "take" I found inscribed the following message:

"You're alive. That means you have infinite potential.

You can do anything, make anything, dream anything.

If you change the world, the world will change"
Neil Gaiman

Now, who lives in this one?

Over a picnic lunch in the Walled Garden next to the church I noticed a lot of small children excitedly running around looking under plants, behind trees and benches - all part of the Fairy Door Trail. I hadn't known that a troupe of poetry fairies had set up home in enchanted dwellings with lines of poetry on their doors! The race was on the piece their poem together - or to write a magical poem for uploading on the Festival website. Great excitement all round.

It had been a very busy week and the day was just what I needed to relax. Unfortunately I shalln't be able to make any more of the events on the Festival - but do check out their programme (www.poetry-festival.co.uk) if you can be in the area over the next week. Workshops on "How to Get Your Poetry Published", presentation of the National Poetry Competition prize, sessions on Yeates, poetry and belief, Philip Larkin, Desert Island Poems, local groups giving readings - there really is something to suit all tastes. And the surroundings are delightful - especially if this lovely weather holds, and, if not, there's no shortage of pubs, tea shops and cafes!

Working from a different angle

A busy weekend got off to a very good start at New Bohemians on Friday evening here at Deepspace in Cheltenham. The poet David Clarke was leading a workshop on "Poetic Form". I must say I wasn't much looking forward to an evening dissecting sonnets, villanelles etc. so his approach - that of using novel forms to stimulate creativity - was most welcome. After a brief discussion of the Oulipo (about whom I knew nothing - do look them up if you're in the same boat!) and an introduction through some very different types of poems, we launched into a few very interesting exercises. For example, David presented us with five poems in quite obscure languages - with which none of us were familiar - to be "translated" to the best of our understanding and imagination. Valiant attempts at examining rhythm, line lengths, word repetition etc. etc. yielded some impressively creative responses!

David Clarke

Swanwick, here I come!

I'm really pleased that this year I shall be free to go to the Swanwick Writers Summer School in August. For several years now I've been hearing really good reports of the week - the excellent speakers, the great choice of courses, the stimulation and excitement of meeting and working with so many other writers. I've not previously had the opportunity to go myself, but heard earlier this week that there were a few places left for this year's event so booked last night. I shall be going along with my fellow Catchword writers Richard Hensley, Pam Keevil and Susannah White; Pam has won a free place this year with an amazing children's story ("Old Stinky Feet") and Susie won the poetry competition for a place, so I shall be in elevated company!

The Hayes Conference Centre, Derbyshire

A Writer's Paradise

Culbone Church

Tarr Steps

We have had a magical couple of days down on Exmoor. The glorious coastline, the windswept moorland - no wonder the area has generated so much wonderful writing! Coleridge is reputed to have thought out "The Ancient Mariner" here, Blackmore set his Lorna Doone amid the desolation of the Valley of Rocks and its wild surroundings - and present day writers are no less inspired by the locality.

On Sunday we climbed up through the wood from Porlock Weir to Culbone Church - the smallest (and probably the most secluded) parish church in the country. Once home to charcoal burners and vagrants, the woods were alive with rhododenrons; the church, dedicated to the Welsh abbot St. Beuno, was mentioned in the Domesday Book and the very stones seem imbued with the centuries of worship they have witnessed.

Yesterday, in warm sunshine, we visited the Tarr Steps, the clapper bridge that spans the River Barle, and walked the shady valley in the company of numerous irridiscent dragonflies, sapphire, gold and jade. A few hardy souls were swimming amongst the shoals of fish in some of the deeper pools though we decided to give that a miss! But at five locations we were delighted to find ....

"Poetry Boxes"! And, yes, they were that way up as they were attached to tree trunks. Opening the boxes, walkers find a notebook and pencil with the invitation to write a poem and to read the ones penned by earlier visitors. At the end of the summer season all the poems will be collected and exhibited in a local arts centre. What a great idea.

Can you or can't you?

In the last year or so there has been much debate as to whether it is truly possible to teach creative writing, with august figures from the literary world weighing in on both sides. Last Saturday  I was at an event on the Fringe Festival of the University of Gloucestershire which made it abundantly clear that talent can certainly be nurtured in a supportive environment; whether the poets participating would have "made it" without their MA courses is open to conjecture, but they attribute much of their success to the time spent developing and honing their skills at the university here.

Mantie Lister

I have written about the poetry of Angela France and Anna Saunders before in this blog but two new voices for me were those of Mantie Lister and Lesley Ingram. Lesley's debut collection is based on the art of Maggie Taylor and I was struck by her seemingly effortless command of the short poem - few lines but clever wording delivering a message so succinctly. Mantie, an English teacher from Exmouth, is currently Exeter's youngest ever town bard; I can well imagine her firing up her pupils with the infectious enthusiasm she displayed, especially for the spoken word. A most enjoyable afternoon, rounded off by a reading from Nigel McLoughlin, Professor of Creativity and Poetics,  justly proud of the alumni from his department.  

Reminiscence

Over the (many!) years since leaving grammar school I've kept in touch with several old friends and in recent years we've met up annually, usually in one another's homes, for a reunion. This year we were blessed with a beautiful summer day for our get-together in Worcestershire and thoroughly enjoyed catching up on news and views, friends and families, hobbies and holidays. Someone had brought along a "rough book" (which we used to use for classroom working) from our very first term in 1960 and that started a stream of reminiscence.

Driving home afterwards my mind was still full of stories from "back in the day" - times perhaps not appreciated then but recalled with much affection now. School days are fertile ground for writing, of course - witness so many autobiographies, some, like John Betjeman's, in poetic form. A particular instance that I remember well was our "Valedictory", the end of year service to say farewell to leavers, held in the beautiful surroundings of Worcester Cathedral ...

Cathedral Church of Christ and Blessed Mary the Virgin of Worcester

Valediction

Generations have knelt in these pews before us,
outgrowing blazers, boaters, summer dresses,
an evening sun streaming valediction 
through stained glass, pouring benediction 
on their final days.

Did they too give little ear
to the Dean's earnest exhortation,
little thought to the familiar prayers? 
Were they, like us,
too impatient to leave,
too desperate to live?

(Copyright Gill Garrett 2015)

Poetry and the family

Angela France

A good evening on Tuesday at Writers in the Brewery in Cirencester, now in the cafe rather than the theatre, which has rather more comfortable seats! A great improvement. The guest reader this month was Angela France, who teaches poetry at the University of Gloucestershire and also runs Buzzwords, the monthly poetry evening at the Exmouth Arms here in Cheltenham. A lot of her poetry centres on her family history but takes a universal perspective on it and her comments certainly inspired me to start thinking more broadly around the issues brought up in my own family research and writing.

Much of my reading this week has been of poetry suitable for funerals and thanksgiving services as we prepare to say our goodbyes to a much loved family member. Especially in his later years, family became everything to him and I think the poem I have chosen to read at his funeral reflects that. It was written by Leo Marks, who was not actually a poet but was responsible for agents dropped into occupied territories in the Second World War as part of the Special Operations Executive. The poem was used in broadcasts to resistance movements and is sometimes referred to as "Code Poem For The French Resistance".

The Life That I Have

The life that I have

is all that I have,

and the life that I have

is yours.

The love that I have

of the life that I have

is yours and yours and yours.

A sleep I shall have,

a rest I shall have,

yet death will be but a pause

for the peace of my years

in the long green grass

will be yours and yours and yours.

Leo Marks.

It may not be "great" poetry but what better words to express the handing on of life to children and grandchildren?

Voices

After a very difficult family fortnight with a major bereavement, it was lovely to have an evening out yesterday at the Winchcombe Festival of Music and Arts. There was a very appreciative audience at the White Hart Inn for "Voices", a poetry reading given by Matt Black, Anna Saunders and Peter Wyton - three very different poets who were equally interesting and entertaining.

Matt Black was for two years the Derbyshire Poet Laureate - once confused, as he told us, when visiting a school to run a workshop, with the national Laureate, Carol Anne Duffy! But they asked him back, which must have been a sign of their satisfaction with his performance. His reading from his book of children's poems involved audience participation for his amusing rendition of "Toast" and then he moved on to subjects as diverse as Arkwright's cotton factory and conversations overheard outside a hairdressers and in Waitrose expressed in the 17 syllables of haikus. Brilliant.

Anna Saunders is well known in the area in her role as Director of the Cheltenham Poetry Festival and she read from her collections "Struck" and "Communion". Of her poems, a favourite of mine is one based on the chapter in Laurie Lee's "Cider With Rosie" that tells of the murder of a brash and bragging young man who comes to the village pub one winter's night - you may know the story. I have always loved the book - the setting for which is only a few miles from my home - and Anna's poem echoes the chilling reality of locals closing ranks against an unwelcome outsider.

Slam champion Peter Wyton was as great as ever, giving us a "fast trot around Cotswoldshire" with his take on the history of the villages and our "rogue river", the Severn, "distaining restraining orders"  by flooding with monotonous regularity. I could never tire of hearing his poem on "The Ladies Of The Charity Shop"; he has them well and truly (affectionately) taped.

All in all, a really good evening and just what I needed.