Been on the road again
Went south to visit family and also did a couple of gigs. The first was a reading at the Michaelhouse in Cambridge, a venue which isn't quite as ecclesiastical as it looks from the photos. This was very enjoyable as it was organised by Anne Berkeley, who apart from being a fine poet and noted performer with the Joy of Six group, is a friend of mine. It also featured the very interesting Daniel Hardisty, who is one of the very few male poets I have ever met who claims always to wear a tie - most of them don't own one. The audience was friendly and bought some books, though needless to say the book-buying record of the amazingly cultured citizens of Haverfordwest still stands unchallenged.
I chose the wrong time to visit Cambridge: (a) the Scott Polar Research Institute, which to an arctic nut like me is far and away its most important building, was shut for some reason, and (b) it was exam time, so all the pretty colleges had notices warning the riffraff to keep out. But it was a nice day for wandering, and dodging the hordes of bicycles.
Next day I visited a London school, the Grey Coat Hospital, where I had some friends on FB, one of whom was enterprising enough to get his English dept to set up a gig - thanks, Joe. This was great fun, with the usual intelligent questions (only adults ask daft ones) and an unexpected bonus in the shape of book-buying teachers! That doesn't usually happen, but the GCH staff are clearly cultivated and upstanding citizens to a woman.
Oh, and I met another poet friend for lunch at Tate Britain, though since we had unwisely agreed to meet at the "entrance" without specifying which one, there was a certain amount of following each other round the outside of the building frantically texting before we met....
And am now back home in the very unfrozen north, with a cat liberated from the cattery who is enjoying the sun as much as I am. Managed to leave something behind at the house where I stayed. By way of apology, and to prove there are folk with even worse memories than me, I sent my hostess this letter from Sydney Smith to his recent house guest Tom Moore:
August 7th, 1843.
Dear Moore - The following articles have been found in your room and forwarded by the Great Western. A right-hand glove, an odd stocking, a sheet of music paper, a missal, several letters, apparently from ladies, an Elegy on Phelim O'Neil. There is also a bottle of Eau de Cologne. What a careless mortal you are!
God bless you
Sydney Smith
I chose the wrong time to visit Cambridge: (a) the Scott Polar Research Institute, which to an arctic nut like me is far and away its most important building, was shut for some reason, and (b) it was exam time, so all the pretty colleges had notices warning the riffraff to keep out. But it was a nice day for wandering, and dodging the hordes of bicycles.
Next day I visited a London school, the Grey Coat Hospital, where I had some friends on FB, one of whom was enterprising enough to get his English dept to set up a gig - thanks, Joe. This was great fun, with the usual intelligent questions (only adults ask daft ones) and an unexpected bonus in the shape of book-buying teachers! That doesn't usually happen, but the GCH staff are clearly cultivated and upstanding citizens to a woman.
Oh, and I met another poet friend for lunch at Tate Britain, though since we had unwisely agreed to meet at the "entrance" without specifying which one, there was a certain amount of following each other round the outside of the building frantically texting before we met....
And am now back home in the very unfrozen north, with a cat liberated from the cattery who is enjoying the sun as much as I am. Managed to leave something behind at the house where I stayed. By way of apology, and to prove there are folk with even worse memories than me, I sent my hostess this letter from Sydney Smith to his recent house guest Tom Moore:
August 7th, 1843.
Dear Moore - The following articles have been found in your room and forwarded by the Great Western. A right-hand glove, an odd stocking, a sheet of music paper, a missal, several letters, apparently from ladies, an Elegy on Phelim O'Neil. There is also a bottle of Eau de Cologne. What a careless mortal you are!
God bless you
Sydney Smith